The REIGN: Out of Tribulation

by Jeffrey McClain Jones

  Rodney noted that Steve referred to “our place,” realizing that Steve and Marney’s low key wedding in December had done little to acclimate him with their marriage. Perhaps it was just his own busy preoccupation that had prevented him from catching up to the reality of their union.

  Returning to the topic at hand, Rodney said, “That might work. What do you still need to get a realistic video stream into your house?” He was thinking that this could be a project for Daniel and him to do together, helping Steve and Marney, at the same time.

  Steve described the components he had, and what he still needed, while Rodney took notes on his mobile device, knowing that Daniel would understand the specifics better than he did. At home that night, Rodney reviewed his notes with Daniel, who had to call Steve for some clarification, in hopes that he could use some equipment he had found in a scrounging expedition with Tina. Emma had made him promise not to do such scrounging again without an adult, but not before he and Tina had found some valuable new computer components, in a house on the far north edge of town.

  The immortals had placed lawn signs in the yards of houses whose owners had abandoned them because of death, or rapture. Even with the influx of new people, there remained dozens of empty houses in the area. The immortals brokered the houses freely, as part of their task of redistributing resources. Because of the deep drop in the mortals’ global population, and the fact that the missing had indeed not taken anything with them, there was much less pressure on property rights. Nevertheless, the gradually settling society left less and less opportunity for scavenging.

  Steve and Daniel worked out a trade, including some new motorcycle helmets and coins from Steve, in exchange for the added equipment. Rodney and Daniel offered their labor for free. Rodney assumed that he could handle the hauling and mounting and serve as Daniel’s assistant on the electronic installation and configuration.

  Beyond those logistical considerations, Rodney knew, at some level, that he had jumped to encourage Steve and Marney, in lieu of his own clarity about what he should do. Perhaps he sought to appease God by enabling Steve and Marney to worship, or perhaps he would find an inviting environment in Steve’s house, where he could experiment, away from the eyes of strangers.

  A week later, Rodney and Daniel drove home in the van, after finishing the basic placement of audio and video components, leaving only the computer configuration and some adjustments. The sun had dipped into a bank of clouds, which carried the night’s portion of rain and colored the sky pink, red and purple. Rodney checked his rear view mirrors frequently along the eastbound road home. For this reason, he startled when Daniel spoke up suddenly.

  “Hey, stop! It’s Devin,” Daniel said abruptly.

  Rodney swerved and slowed down with a lurch of the brakes. He knew that no one was behind him and felt fortunate that no one approached in the other lane, because he had crossed the centerline at the flash of a human face on the side of the road. Back in control, he maneuvered the vehicle over to the shoulder, a hundred yards past Devin, who was walking with a stout, older man.

  Daniel jumped out of the car onto the recently clipped grass at the side of the road. “Hey, Devin.” He waved as he called out.

  Devin waved back, said something to his coworker and handed him the shovel he was carrying. “Hello,” he said to Daniel, as his friend disappeared in the dusk.

  “I was planning to stop in at your place tonight,” Devin said, as he approached the van. “I have something to make for dinner, if you’re interested.” He swung his backpack off his shoulder and patted it.

  Rodney pulled his mobile device from his shirt pocket and hit a couple of buttons. Emma answered. He told her Devin was offering to make supper and that they would be home in a few minutes.

  Devin climbed into the passenger seat and Daniel squeezed in next to him.

  “Hello, Devin. Doing some road work?” Rodney asked.

  “Yes, sir, we were just finishing up some fine points along this stretch.”

  “You’re doing a great job. This road was never so smooth.”

  “Thank you. It’s kind of you to say so.”

  “Did you tell Mom that Devin’s gonna make us supper?” Daniel asked Rodney.

  “Yep. She’ll probably still be celebrating when we hit the front door.”

  “Can I invite Tina?” Daniel asked.

  Rodney looked at Devin who grinned and nodded. “Of course,” he said.

  “You heard the man,” Rodney said.

  When Rodney built the kitchen, he had in mind his grandmother, who served three meals a day to her husband and a few ranch hands at her kitchen table, for fifty-some years. That night, the large kitchen provided enough space for the whole family, including Tina, to sit and stand around, while Devin created a meal with a sort of meat substitute that Rodney had sampled in Jerusalem.

  “Did you cook, in your life before,” Tina asked him, as Devin stirred a sauce he had concocted from ingredients in Rodney and Emma’s kitchen, along with spices he had pulled from his backpack. He seemed to know what they had and where they kept everything, without having to ask. This relaxed Emma even more, where she sat in the rocking chair that Rodney had pulled into the kitchen for her.

  “I rarely had a place to eat, let alone a place to cook, during my life as a mortal,” Devin said, in a strangely upbeat tone.

  “How’s that?” Rodney asked.

  “Oh, I lived on the street from the time I was a teenager, after bouncing from foster home to foster home, as a kid. I only found a place where I was loved, just weeks before the second pandemic, which ended my life.”

  Everyone remained silent for nearly a minute, listening to the sound of a wooden spoon stirring the sauce and the sound of, what Devin called, “Jerusalem protein,” sizzling in a skillet. Each of the mortals ruminated on the brief summary of Devin’s life and their own strange feelings at hearing someone tell so peacefully about his own death.

  As Devin combined the sauce with the sautéed protein, noodles began to boil on the back burner. He set to chopping carrots and celery very thin, finishing in under a minute and dashing them into the skillet.

  “When will we be able to buy some of that Jerusalem protein?” Emma asked.

  Devin glanced at her and feigned a coy look. “Oh, what makes you think we would let mortals get hold of it?” After a serious pause, he broke a smile.

  The mortals laughed. Rodney tried to remember being teased so obviously by one of the immortals, always trying to keep track of what rules applied to them.

  “We’re in the process of distributing it around the world,” Devin said. “The first shipments should make it to Somerville within a few days. We’ve already secured a shop in town, where we’ll hire someone to sell it.”

  “Sell it?” Daniel asked, feeling strange about the idea of the immortals profiting from their invention.

  “Yes,” Devin said. “Mortals are more inclined to value something that they have to pay for, even if they only pay a little. The cost will just be the cost of the shop and employees. A friend of mine, Marissa, is overseeing the shops in this area.”

  “She’ll set the local price based on her costs?” Rodney asked, trying to distract himself from the intense hunger provoked by the delicious smell of Devin’s cooking.

  “Yes, exactly,” Devin sai, tasting a bit of his creation. “Mmm,” he said, teasing them again. “Let’s eat,” he finally said, with a smile.

  The dining room, next to the warm kitchen on a breezy evening, resonated with laughter and conversation, as the mortals ate the most delicious food they had ever tasted. They left nothing to cleanup or store by the end of the meal. Emma sat back in her chair, giving her baby and her stomach a bit more room, relaxing and breathing as deeply as her internal crowded conditions allowed. Rodney rubbed her belly and felt the baby move. Then he felt the first contraction.

  Emma looked at Rodney, a bit concerned. This was a couple of weeks earlier than they had expected the boy to be born
. Devin saw her look of concern.

  “Don’t worry, he’s fine, you just got your date wrong.” Devin’s confidence assured them.

  Rodney helped his wife into the living room where she lay down on the couch to relax, in case that contraction was premature, perhaps more about dinner than about delivering a baby. As she lay with her left arm resting across her forehead, Rodney called the midwife, one of the immortals who had settled in town.

  “Hello, this is Hanna,” said the pleasant alto voice on the other end.

  “Hanna, this is Rodney Stippleman, Emma has just had her first contraction.”

  Then Emma added from behind him, “Second contraction.”

  “Okay,” replied Hanna. “Just have her relax, for now. I’ll be there in about an hour. Nothing is going to happen before that.”

  In such a situation, the solid confidence of the supernatural midwife carried a carload of calm. Rodney reported her instructions and assurance to Emma and then went to prepare the bedroom for the birth. Daniel moved in to ask if his mother needed anything and Tina asked if she could stay and help.

  “Call your mother,” Emma said. “If she says you can stay, I’d be glad to have you here.”

  After Tina received permission from her mother, she looked for Rodney to see how she could help.

  An hour later, Hanna arrived, knocking at the door as if she had just driven over in her buggy. She had been a pioneer wife living in rural Alaska during her mortal life, and she still dressed the part, as if she had just flown in on a sea plane to deliver the child of some cabin-bound resident of the Arctic Circle. Daniel greeted the midwife and ushered her to the bedroom, where Emma had settled in. Immediately, Hanna took charge, much to Rodney’s relief.

  He had, of course, taken charge in numerous medical emergencies, including a baby delivered by one of the medics under his command, but he gratefully relinquished command that night, willing to follow Hanna’s lead and focus his attention on his wife. Tina stepped in as Hanna’s right hand helper and Daniel wavered in and out of the room, careful not to see too much of his mother, or the actual birthing process. Watching Sally, the coyote, give birth was quite enough exposure to the process for him.

  Devin had said his goodbyes a few minutes before Hanna arrived, as if they had been taking turns. Rodney wondered whether the meal was part of the birth plan that the immortals had assembled quietly in the background. He had heard that certain kinds of food, eaten in sufficient quantity, induced birth.

  During approximately one hour of labor, Emma experienced less pain than she had remembered from either of her two previous births. Although she felt the birth very intensely, of course, she reported the sensation as more powerful than painful. From Rodney’s perspective, the birth seemed to go much more smoothly than any he had witnessed before, much less agony expressed by the mother and a much greater sense that Emma remained a conscious participant, never overwhelmed by the process, in the way that he had seen elsewhere.

  As Hanna wiped the little boy with a cotton cloth and Emma smiled and drank water, Rodney asked, “Is this part of the new Kingdom, then, or is this boy just that extraordinary?”

  Hanna looked at him briefly and then gently laid the baby in Emma’s arms, “You mean the ease with which your wife delivered the child?”

  Rodney half shrugged and half nodded, not wanting to minimize the obvious energy Emma had expended.

  “All of nature is coming under the King’s influence, including human life and birth and death,” she said.

  Rodney allowed the vast implications of that statement to escape, instead crawling onto the bed next to his wife and son. After moments of curious fascination and sheer joy, Emma attempted to breast feed the little boy. He latched on enthusiastically, inspiring smiles all around the room.

  “We’re going to name him,” Rodney began, waiting for a look of affirmation from Emma before he finished his statement, “Joshua David.”

  Hanna smiled, “A good name for a strong-willed boy.”

  Rodney caught the subtle warning encased in these words, noting them for later consideration. Having heard Devin’s announcement that Joshua would be a leader, Rodney had skipped over the possibility that raising such a son would likely involve struggling with the boy’s strong sense of purpose and firm attachment to his own will.

  All of that would come soon enough. That night, on the other hand, required only peaceful celebration and some arrangements to accommodate an early arrival, with no greater parenting challenges than that.

  Just before ten o’clock that night, Rodney called the friends whom he thought would still be awake, or who wouldn’t mind being disturbed for the sake of such good news. The birth announcement seemed more auspicious to the survivors than it might have been to a previous generation. Overlapping natural disasters, global war and the real possibility of human extinction, had converted this generation of adults to a rich gratitude for life. They also felt the absence of small children among them and the birth of each new child assured them that theirs was not a dead end race, or a terminal generation.

  Congratulations greeted Rodney everywhere he went the next day, including Betty Cochran’s farm, where Ben and Rodney were back at work again, this time expanding the barn to store feed for the goats and chickens. Betty had mastered the art of goat’s cheese and yogurt and sold her wares in town, at a new shop she had opened. Rodney had done some work there, as well, making room for refrigeration units and building an old-fashioned store counter.

  Betty stood on her porch when Rodney parked his van in her driveway. She jibed him good-naturedly. “Shouldn’t you be home takin’ care of that baby?”

  Rodney smiled, knowing this to be only teasing. Then he answered her seriously. “The amazing thing is that Emma is up on her feet and feeling fine.” He resettled his baseball cap on his hair, which needed cutting.

  “Well, I thought you were exaggerating in your phone message when you said the birth was easy,” Betty said, stepping off the porch to shake Rodney’s hand. “But I heard from Maude Regan yesterday that her daughter gave birth last month and it hardly hurt at all. So what do you think? Maybe I should start a new family.”

  “You should definitely consider it, Betty. All the old rules are gone, everything’s different now,” Rodney said.

  “Well, except for the way you make babies.”

  Rodney decided not to follow that bait, changing the subject to the work in the barn. Ben emerged from the newly-painted white barn, grinning and congratulating Rodney. Rodney teased Ben in return for shaving his beard off.

  “You look about fifteen years old now,” Rodney said.

  “What, just ‘cause, I ain’t as old as you?” Ben retorted. “I don’t know how you’re gonna keep up with that little kid, him running around and you looking for your walker.”

  Rodney gently punched Ben in the shoulder. “I’m not old anymore, didn’t you hear, I’m gonna live to be a hundred and fifty. I’m not even middle aged yet.”

  “Oh, me neither, then,” said Betty.

  Rodney took a look at Ben’s work and helped him lift a supporting beam into place. He called Emma after a half an hour, still not sure he should have gone off to work so soon after the birth.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Emma said. “You just come home before supper. We’ll be okay. Marney’s coming out later, to help a bit, and Sara’s coming tomorrow. I’ve got all the help I need. Besides, someone’s got to make the money to pay for this boy’s diapers and college.”

  When Rodney had finished helping Ben and collecting a payment from Betty, he returned to the van, gold and silver clanking in his pocket. He planned to convert those coins into supplies for their next job. He headed for town, with goodbyes for Ben and Betty.

  At the county road, he thought of Chester, whom he hadn’t seen in months. On a whim, he turned toward the house where he was first recruited into politics. His current role as state coordinator for the National Guard suited him well, given the peaceful con
ditions politically and meteorologically. Among the few possible threats to the political peace, Chester and some of his friends still rose to mind.

  Chester’s driveway looked more overgrown with weeds than Rodney had ever seen it and he could detect no recent vehicle tracks through the gravel and dirt. He drove right up to the house, just in case Chester had sealed himself in against the outside world. The porch wore a thin layer of dust, unmarked by human footprints. No one had been in or out of the front door in months.

  Rodney parked and got out of the van. With the immortals effectively disabling all firearms, he felt safer approaching Chester’s house. Curious whether anyone lived in the house, or even visited, Rodney skirted around the east side, past the porch and under shuttered windows. He stood on his tiptoes and tried to peer through a gap between two of the shutters. He couldn’t see anything inside the dark house.

  Rodney took ten more steps around the back corner, just to satisfy his curiosity. He stopped, looked around, and was about to return to his van, when he noticed finger marks along the edge of the back door, three dark gray prints in tan dust. He walked closer to the back door, moving more cautiously, thinking that perhaps squatters had taken over Chester’s house, which would be a thoroughly ironic turn, given the old hermit’s reputation for protecting his property.

  Just as Rodney stepped up onto the back porch to take a closer look at those fingerprints, he heard a stick break behind him and whirled around. A bearded man, with a floppy hat pulled down over his forehead, pivoted on his right foot and began to run away. Instinctively, Rodney gave chase. As he ran, he started to question why, but felt curious enough to shelve those questions and keep gaining on the older man dodging down the path. When he got within a few steps of the runner, he suddenly realized it was Chester.

  “Chester, what are you doing?” He shouted, though out of breath.

  Chester slowed and then stopped, huffing and puffing, putting his hands on his knees and spitting on the ground. He looked up at Rodney, who stood holding his side against a cramp and looking incredulous.