SECRET SALVATION

by Chad Josey

  “Terrorists have claimed responsibility for shooting down a Russian plane en route to Moscow. All two-hundred-and-forty-three passengers and crew are feared dead.”

  The light from the television went dark as Joe pressed the power button on the remote. Darkness surrounded him on the sofa. Sarcastic thoughts entered his mind.

  It doesn’t matter… terrorists… politicians. What is real anymore? Hell, I bet somebody was on that plane and knew about Salvation.

  Joe was losing faith in everything he had known to be true.

  In complete silence, a slow drip from the kitchen sink grew louder. On her screen, the camera in the television captured Joe throw off his blanket. Joe stretched out his arms and yawned before standing and walking into the kitchen.

  With the kitchen lights turning on, the cameras switched to daylight mode. His Monitor watched as Joe turned the faucet on-and-off. He inspected the pipe pointing down. Two large drops fell into a small puddle formed in the bottom of the sink.

  Several minutes had passed. Mary entered the kitchen. She laughed seeing his backside sticking out from under the sink, his head inside the cabinet.

  “Good morning, Honey… What are you doing?”

  Joe crawled from under the sink and closed the cabinet doors. “I fixed a leak in the faucet.”

  “Oh… okay? Were you able to sleep?”

  He stood from under the sink and gave her his normal morning kiss. “Good morning, Sweetie. I slept like a baby.” Again, another lie.

  February 18, 1990

  Pasadena, Texas

  THE CHURCH HAD BEEN ALWAYS a comforting place to Joseph as a child. It was the one constant he could always seem to rely on, given the sadness he so far had to endure as a child.

  Joseph never knew his father, a kind and loving family man. A drunk driver had killed Jacob on the day Joseph was born. Now, it had only been less than a year since his mama, Rachel, had died. So, he looked forward to going to church on Sunday mornings with his grandma, Liz. His way to connect with his mama.

  Joseph especially loved the sermons about reuniting with lost family members in Heaven someday. Even though he was only eleven-years-old, Joseph understood the meaning of Minister Greene's sermon.

  “Brothers and Sisters. Please turn in your Bible to First Thessalonians, Chapter Four, verses fifteen through seventeen.” Minister Greene held his Bible as he marched around his podium allowing the congregation time to follow his instructions.

  Minister Greene continued, “Dear Folks, the Bible tells us: the Lord himself will come down from Heaven with a word of authority, with the voice of the chief angel, with the sound of a horn. And, the dead in Christ will come to life first. Then, we who are still living will be taken up together with them into the clouds to see the Lord in the air.”

  Minister Greene finished reading the verses and looked out toward the congregation. “Folks, we have studied before in our sermons from Revelations about the end of days. I am here to tell you we are living in these times now. War, disease, natural disasters… they are all around us. But, our God said it right here. That all us believers will soon be called up to Heaven as the Rapture will be upon us.”

  The minister’s voice grew louder. Veins in his forehead bulged with each passing sentence. Joseph always liked it when this happened. It entertained him when the minister solicited a chorus of “Amens” from the people who sat around him.

  Minister Greene walked from the altar to the center aisle parting the two sides of the church sanctuary. He stood in the middle and continued his sermon.

  “It will be a glorious day my Brothers and Sisters in Christ. For on the day of the Rapture, we will all rise up to Heaven and experience Salvation with our Father. There, we will rejoin our fellow brethren who have died before us and we will live in eternal bliss with Jesus in Heaven.”

  Joseph slid his body forward in his seat. The widest smile overcame him. He turned his head to his grandma. Her eyes caught his. Liz returned a matching smile. Silently, she knew why Joseph looked so happy.

  “But, all will not be well here on Earth for those left behind. The nonbelievers, they will not understand what is happening. And as the antichrist appears, they will have to endure Hell on Earth during the final tribulation.” Minister Greene walked back to the altar standing at the center of the stage in front of the choir.

  “Then, at the end of the tribulation, Jesus will return to Earth. This second coming of Jesus and the Church will save the remaining lost souls in which there will be a thousand years of peace on Earth.”

  “Wow, a thousand years,” Joseph said, whispering to himself. Joseph slipped back into his seat and leaned his head onto his grandma’s shoulder. Liz lifted her arm and hugged him to her as he pressed against her listening to the sermon continue.

  His eyes blinked slower… and slower until he drifted into a light sleep. Even though he fell asleep, in the background Minister Greene’s voice continued. His words were comforting to Joseph as he fell deeper to sleep.

  A few minutes had passed. Joseph jolted awake. Visions of his grandma and everyone else standing with their hymnals replaced the darkness of his closed eyes. Sounds of music from the organ played.

  Joseph took a few seconds to orient himself from his nap as now the room was full of music and singing. He stood from the pew beside Liz. She lowered her hymnal down so he could follow along in the song.

  Joseph found his place with Liz’s help pointing to where they were in the lyrics and sang along to How Great Thou Art.

  As the chorus ended, he looked up to his grandma. At that moment, all the color in Joseph's face disappeared as he opened his mouth in horror without a sound. Instead of looking into the eyes of his grandma, the eyes of his mama looked back to him.

  It was not the same warm, loving expression Joseph remembered from his mama. Instead, it was the last expression Rachel wore before going into the hospital. How she looked when she had passed out this past Easter in the Minister’s arms.

  Her expression was one of someone gasping for their last breath. Rachel’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. All Joseph could see now were the whites of her eyes.

  Joseph released the hymnal as the book fell. It passed without hesitation through his and her hands together slamming to the floor. The sound of their book hitting the floor multiplied by a hundred. All the other hymnals everyone held hit the floor at the same time. A sickening thud rumbled throughout the church.

  The cascade of books hitting the floor came to him like a tidal wave as the organ music stopped. Standing in complete shock, Joseph's mouth opened wider-and-wider. Fear in his eyes grew. Joseph slowly said one, single word. “Mama?”

  The word Mama escaped his lips as Rachel floated away from him toward the ceiling. Everyone else in the church joined her in the air. He was the only person left on the floor as the bodies floated through the ceiling. Joseph yelled, “Mama!”

  In an instant, Joseph was in complete darkness. His clothes were soaking wet with sweat. He realized he was lying in his bed. He wanted to cry but was in a state of confusion unsure where he was or what had happened.

  A few seconds had passed. His heartbeat slowed as he calmed down. After a deep breath, Joseph lay with his eyes open replaying the dream over in his mind. He realized the sermon he had heard caused his dream. Satisfied, he rose from his bed.

  His footsteps seemed lighter than normal. Darkness of the room surrounded him. The room felt familiar, but different.

  He looked at his watch to check the time. Pressing the left-side button, a greenish glow lit the black air as 2:30 a.m. reflected. Joseph lowered his arm not seeing the date, which had scrolled across his watch, September 12, 2020.

  What a dream? Joe thought as he walked into the bathroom without making a sound. The dream had haunted Joe as it had reoccurred with greater frequency the past few weeks.

  October 12, 2013

  Stony Brook, New York

  DARKNESS FILLED THE HALLWAY between Joe’s lab and
his office. An eerie red light emanated from the emergency exit sign at the other end of the hall in the Stonehaven building.

  Inside the lab, Joe sat behind his workbench. All the lights were on. His normally neat hair was disheveled. Hours had passed as he peered over mountains of new data from his latest simulation the past three days.

  A plate sat beside him with clear plastic wrapped over a half-eaten piece of apple pie. On top was a yellow sticky-note in Mary’s handwriting. I know you said you would work late tonight.

  Steam rose from his mug beside the plate. The aroma of coffee filled the lab. Three, wet filters sat on top of the trash can below the coffee-maker beside the lab sink. Evidence of spilled water lay on the floor between the sink and coffee pot. Signs pointed Joe had been here for quite some time.

  “Can this be?” Joe asked of no one in his lab as the early hours of Saturday morning crept upon him. Papers fell to the floor. Across the table, three thick research books with well-worn pages sat open to different places.

  He reached into his white lab coat’s front pocket and pulled out a small voice recorder. To remind him of his various notes during his research, he pressed record and spoke.

  “The RNA codex miR-182 from Sample 10.09.2008B has proven to be an identical match to Sample 10.09.2008A. The simulated statistical probability of an exact match between the two samples is 0.000001%. So, one out of a million people could potentially share the same RNA codex. Sample 10.09.2008A was taken from the female patient with a maternal relationship to Sample 10.09.2008B taken from the male patient.”

  Joe stopped the recording as the hallway light turned on. To both their surprise, the cleaning lady peeked into his lab. She was pulling her mop bucket with its squeaky wheel following her. Joe pressed record again to speak.

  “The miR-182 Sample 10.09.2008A was administered to mouse subject number one and mirR-182 Sample 10.09.2008B was administered to mouse subject number two at 14:20 and 14:25, respectively on October 4th, 2013. The injection points were into the cerebral cortex.”

  “Tests conducted on both mice after forty-eight hours show a ten percent increase in positive markers for potential GMB tumor growth. Further tests are needed to determine the genetic relationship between the identical codex development of miR-182 as well as the ability of this RNA codex to reduce the expression of several oncogenes promoting cancer development.”

  “Joe, you look like shit,” Charlie said shouting, as he entered wearing his University of Stony Brook sweatshirt. “Man, it’s ten o’clock and kickoff starts in two hours. Have you been here all night?” Charlie asked as he picked up the plate with the half-eaten apple pie to his nose.

  Joe stopped his recorder. He glanced toward the window as bright daylight shined through the horizontal metal blinds. “Charlie, I’ve got to show you this.” Joe’s voice cracked from not drinking anything for the past several hours. “I think I've found it.”

  “Joe, it will have to wait. Becky’s waiting on me. I needed to run in here to pickup my tickets that my stupid ass left in my desk. We still have two extra tickets if you and Mary want to come?”

  Charlie rummaged through his cluttered drawer, through empty candy wrappers.

  “Ah, there they are.” Charlie slammed the metal drawer closed and started toward the door. “Whatever it is, it has to wait until Monday. I left the tickets on my desk if you want to come.” Charlie’s voice trailed off as he walked away.

  Joe looked at Charlie’s desk at the tickets and then back to the plate with the now missing piece of pie. As he looked toward the window, a twinkling glimmer of light bounced off the side of his eyes. Leaves deflected the sunlight, which shimmered on the clear, plastic wrap on the plate.

  He placed the plastic wrap back over the plate to stop the glare from bouncing off of his face. Once in place, the yellow sticky-note fell off and floated down to the floor. Joe bent to pick it up and place it back on the table.

  “Dammit!” Joe shouted as he realized he had been in the lab since Thursday morning.

  Mary had made her famous, homemade apple pie for Wednesday’s dinner. Joe had missed this because he again worked late. Before Joe had left Thursday morning, he had seen the plate with two pieces of apple pie and with a yellow sticky-note on top.

  “Mary is going to kill me,” Joe said as he picked up the papers from the floor, arranging them in neat stacks on the tabletop. He emptied his full, now-cold coffee mug into the sink, turning off the coffee pot and lights. Before Joe left, he closed the blinds filling the lab with darkness as he locked the lab door behind him.

  Joe walked across the hall to his office and got his backpack to go home. The light from his office reflected through the lab door. It illuminated one sheet of paper left on his tabletop beside the computer. The bold, black letters on the paper stood out against its white backdrop:

  Sample 10.09.2008A (Rachel Bishop)

  11-Paranoia

  PRESENT - Stony Brook, New York

  1,830 Days Prior to Impact

  DAY FIVE WITHOUT meaningful rest, Joe forced himself to get out of bed this morning to return to his lab. He figured maybe a normal routine would trigger his body’s response allowing him to fall asleep this evening.

  Once he stepped out of the shower, the strong scent of bacon wafted up from downstairs. Joe followed the trail of maple and pork as the sizzling grew louder as he entered the kitchen.

  Mary wore her orange sports bra and black spandex shorts as she cooked. She has always been an early riser enjoying a morning jog. With her teaching classes starting today, Mary got an even earlier start than usual.

  “Good morning, looks like you’re refreshed this morning,” Mary said feeling his warms lips against the back of her neck as his hands rubbed across her bare, flat stomach.

  “Smelling bacon always puts me in a good mood.” Joe backed away from her playfully tapping the backside of her shorts as he sat at the table.

  “Busy day, today?” Mary joined Joe at the table and sipped her orange juice between bites of crispy toast.

  “Uh… just need to catch-up on some work I owe the Eden Foundation information. So, I’m working on that the next few days.”

  Steam rose from Joe’s plate of buttery, scrambled eggs. “How’s your day looking?” Joe savored his bites of crispy bacon. Grease glistened on his lips in the morning sunlight peeking through the window.

  “Well, today is the first full day of classes.”

  “Oh, yeah, I totally forgot. You excited?”

  “First day of class is always the best. I’m happy I get to teach the sixth-grade honors math class this year because I'll have a lot of the same kids from last year.”

  Mary rushed through her breakfast placing her dirty dishes in the sink and ran upstairs to change. A few minutes later, she came back into the kitchen fully dressed for class.

  Mary was a low-maintenance person with a natural beauty. Joe loved this about her. She loved the fact she could easily get dressed and leave quickly not having to apply makeup in the mornings.

  Joe sat at the kitchen table pretending to read the morning paper at the table. He admired Mary watching her collect her things to take to class. Her lips were moving, but Joe heard no sound. Mary kissed him before leaving, which brought him out of his momentary trance he had fallen.

  Joe and Mary’s new rental townhouse was in a perfect location. They lived on the opposite side of the Stony Brook campus; a perfect location close to the middle school for Mary and near the train station for Joe.

  Before going upstairs, Joe washed the dirty dishes cleaning the kitchen. He went upstairs for a quick shower, got dressed, and left for Stonehaven.

  First time I’ve gone to the lab in over a week.

  Joe enjoyed his walk to the train station. The gorgeous weather on this clear, warm morning refreshed Joe. If only the clouds could exit his mind caused by his insomnia.

  Ten minutes had passed waiting at the station. A dozen or so people stood around him, most looking down to th
eir smartphones. Various flavors of coffee breezed by Joe as he held his hand across the top of his forehead to block the blinding sun.

  Squealing from the approaching train lurched around the bend in the tracks from the West. The Pavlov noise created a stir from the crowd waiting on the platform as they jostled their positions.

  The Number 7 had arrived for Joe’s fifteen-minute ride to Stonehaven. Each train car has seats arranged on both sides of an aisle allowing two passengers to sit side-by-side facing another two. The layout maximizes the number of people, which can sit in one car, but creates an awkward intimacy of strangers whose kneecaps are less than a foot apart from touching.

  Joe found an empty seat by a window as an older, white-haired woman sat beside him. A boot appeared on the floor between the closing doors causing them to re-open.

  The boot belonged to a young African-American girl, who was pushing a baby stroller. They sat across from Joe and the older woman.

  The doors closed causing the baby in the stroller to cry. It was a cry so violent, it could pierce the eardrums of a heavy-metal, rock God.

  Great… I’ll have to listen to this screaming the whole way.

  Joe’s new neighbor reached out her pale, wrinkled arm and pointed at the baby. “Is she your daughter?” Her voice came feeble muffled by the moving train.

  “Yes, Ma’am. Her name is Janice.”

  “Oh, such a beautiful name. How old is she?” the woman asked. The baby’s screams became even louder.

  Beautiful, hell. Listen to her.

  “She’s… uh… like six months. Shh. Shh.” The girl rocked the stroller in a failed attempt to hush her daughter.

  The train car vibrated passing over the tracks. A gentle, bouncing motion rocked everyone from side-to-side. Bright sunlight shined through the windows. A strobe effect occurred as the sunlight flashed fast through the passing trees.

  With Joe’s lack of sleep, people inside the train car moved in slow motion. A perfect opportunity for a short nap killed by the non-stop crying.