Survivors

by Dave Mckay

  Irene could not say that Elaine was entirely wrong about the "sign" from God, nor could she be entirely certain that Vernon had been wrong in reacting to the gas station owner's extortionate pricing. But it was all part of a growing disillusionment, that was starting to make her see a lot of things in a new light.

  At the cloverleaf pilgrim camp, sick, weary, and dirty pilgrims were lifting themselves from makeshift beds by the fire to congregate around a late model pick-up that had driven up close to the circle. The driver had hopped up on the back to announce that he had an almost full 44-gallon drum of gasoline to sell. They weren't far from the Montana state border now, and that much gas might be enough to get someone to their destination.

  Traffic was lighter going west, since most people, like the pick-up owner, were going north. The man with the gas had pumped more than he needed to reach Canada, and now he was going to sell the excess to make some easy money.

  Other cars were stopped at the same cloverleaf… cars heading north on highway 85. People had come from as far south as Denver to get out of the country. People from other camps at the intersection had been alerted, and they too straggled over to join in the auction.

  But few of those present had enough cash left to make a serious bid. Only three competitors were left when the price reached $1,000. They included Tom and Betty White--an elderly couple with two small grandchildren.

  Irene had spoken with Tom and Betty earlier that evening. The children were orphans now. Betty had been baby-sitting them while their parents attended a function in a part of St. Paul that had sustained a direct hit.

  The couple heard about the Montana Messiah from a neighbour, and they had joined the exodus. Tom had withdrawn funds for a vacation the day before the attack, so he had more cash left than others at the auction. He had, through poor planning, run out of gas just a hundred yards away from the cloverleaf. Both he and Betty were too frail to walk, and the chances of getting a ride to a gas station and back were slim in the present climate. Even if he did find a station with any gas left, there was a good chance that it would be sold out or charging more than he had by the time he could return with his car.

  After re-checking his bankroll, the thin, grey-haired man called out, "Twelve hundred!" The other two bidders both indicated that they were out of the competition. The man on the pick-up motioned for Tom to bring his money over. Betty held her fists together in front of her chest and made a little jumping motion to express her happiness.

  But just then, Vernon Billings walked over to the truck. He held his big left hand up for the auctioneer to look at, and he spoke quietly to him. They shook hands, and the old couple were told to put their money away. They had been outbid.

  Tom and Betty walked off in tears, and sat down beside the children, who were sleeping next to Irene. "Please, take the children!" Betty begged, between sobs. "We'll give you all that we have if you'll just take the children."

  Vernon was limping toward Irene, and he overheard the conversation. He shook his head "No", indicating with his hands that they did not have room. He signalled for Irene to leave the woman and come over to him.

  "Praise the Lord!" he whispered, conspiratorially, when she walked up to him. "He accepted my Rolex. Irene, can you bring the car over to the pick-up, so he can fill the tank?"

  "We can squeeze the children in," pleaded Irene. "Raymie and I can hold them in the back."

  "And where would we put the boxes? or the water bottles?" The Billingses had loaded both the trunk and back seat up with food, clothes, and water before picking up Irene in Prospect Heights. "I can't allow that," said Vernon.

  "But it's just food and clothes!" exclaimed Irene. "We're talking about two children here."

  "Sister, God knows what he's doing. Just thank him for what he has done for us so far. He'll make a way for them too eventually… if it's his will. Trust God, sister. He's brought us this far."

  Irene walked slowly over to the car. "Trust God?" she asked herself. They had trusted God that they would be taken in the rapture before all of this happened; that they would be immune to radiation; that Jesus had told them to go to Montana. And now she was supposed to trust God that two innocent children would be cared for without any sacrifice on Vernon Billings' part… or, for that matter, on her part.

  Was it really God that she was being asked to trust? Or had Vernon Billings become her replacement for God? She had left her daughter, participated in an armed hold-up, and now beaten an elderly couple and two young children out of their chance for survival, just because Vernon Billings said that it was God's will.

  Irene started the car and drove it up close to the pick-up. As the man with the 44-gallon drum started to siphon the gas into Vernon's car, she was overwhelmed with a desperate need for Rayford to be there and to help her with a hard decision. All her life she had known God through other people. But now she needed to make one of the most important decisions of her life, and she was being forced to do it without back-up from anyone. She tried to pray, but she lacked the certainty that Vernon Billings' confidence had always given to her in the past.

  Irene waited patiently in the driver's seat while the auctioneer above her tipped his drum at an angle, and played with the hose to drain the last of it into her tank. By the time he had finished, she had made her mind up. She signalled for Pastor Billings to come over.

  "Vernon," she began, calling the man by his first name for the first time. "I want you to bring that old couple over here to the car. I want to talk to them." There was a conviction in her voice that shocked Irene as much as it shocked Vernon Billings.

  "It's best not to say anything…" her pastor began.

  "I didn't ask your opinion. I said to bring them here!" she said, through clenched teeth. "Wake Raymie and bring him too." Vernon turned in shock and obeyed her. She was strangely thrilled by her own ability to make such a big decision, and to do it in the face of the man who had made so many of her decisions for her in the past. It was scary, but it was exhilarating too.

  When Vernon returned, his wife was with him.

  "Get in the car, Raymie," Irene said. Raymie climbed in the back, while the others gathered around the window on the driver's side. She spoke up enough so that they could all hear, but not loud enough for any other pilgrims to hear.

  "There has been a change of plans. We're heading north," she said. "We're not going to Montana. If you want a lift to Canada, you can join us."

  "No, don't say that, Sister Strait," argued Pastor Billings as he moved closer to the car. "We're almost there. We can take the children if you like…"

  Just then he saw the barrel of his own pistol poking at him through the window.

  "Sister Strait! What are you doing? Put that down!"

  BANG! A shot rang out. It whizzed over Vernon's head. Other campers turned and looked, but assumed that the car had backfired.

  "I'm serious, Vernon!" Irene said. "I've got a family back in Illinois, and I mean to find them. America has been destroyed, for whatever reason, I don't know. But I can't change things just through wishful thinking.

  "Now, I'll ask just one more time: Who wants to come to Canada with me?" Tom and Betty looked timidly at each other. Their expressions suggested that their faith in the Montana myth had been teetering already. They looked back in Irene's direction and timidly raised their hands.

  "Get the kids," Irene said. "It'll be crowded, but we'll do our best. What about you, Vernon? You can come with us if you like."

  Vernon Billings was in deep pain--both physically and spiritually. Sweat formed on his brow as another wave of nausea swept over him. He had travelled too far down the road. His religious pride would not allow him to change directions now. Right or wrong, he was going to die for his cause. He shook his head, and then turned away to dry retch.

  Irene eyed Elaine. "And you?"

  "My place is with Vern," she said, as she moved closer
to her fevered husband and reached out to comfort him.

  "I understand," Irene said, allowing herself to soften just for a moment. "I love you… both."

  The pastor's wife returned Irene's expression of love, and then Tom White got clearance from Irene before walking over to Vernon and Elaine. He gave them the keys to his car and his roll of money while Betty loaded the kids into the car.

  "My car's up there just past the overpass," Tom said, pointing to a light green Ford. "It's totally empty, but maybe you can get out of here with this." He indicated the wad of money.

  Then Tom returned to Irene and joined Raymie and the older child in the back seat. Betty held the baby in the front with Irene. There were two boxes in the back too, making it quite crowded.

  Irene put the car into drive, waved silently to her former pastor and his wife, and then pulled out onto the highway.

  "Mom, it's too crowded back here," Raymie complained.

  Irene responded slowly and deliberately as she drove, giving each word time to sink in: "I'm only going to say it once, Raymie. If you or anyone else in this car doesn't like the conditions, you just ask and I'll let you out. I'm sorry, Raymie, that I haven't taught you to be more disciplined before now. But these are dangerous times, and we all need to grow up and face reality real fast. It's time to stop complaining and to start thanking God that we are still alive, and that we have the means to get away from here. Do you understand me?"

  "Yes, Mom," said Raymie. Tom and Betty also whispered acceptance of the conditions.

  They drove on in silence. And as they drove, more than one of the car's occupants was praying in a way that he or she had never prayed before.

  Zion Ben-Jonah Writes

  The one thing that Christians need to learn most if they are to be ready for the tests that lie ahead, is how to hear and obey the voice of God. It starts with following your conscience. Because so much of the world has seared their conscience, they are rarely able to hear God's voice at all.

  Obedience to God has been replaced with obedience to human authorities… parents, teachers, pastors, and police. Irene's problem was not that she obeyed Vernon Billings, or even that what Vernon Billings did was necessarily immoral. (After all, Irene herself used the gun in the end!) Her problem was just that she had failed, previously, to ask God what to do, or at least that she had assumed that God's will would always be revealed through her pastor. She had to actually leave her pastor before she could truly grow spiritually.

  The religious institution tends to teach that submission to the institution will guarantee salvation, when it often happens that just the opposite is true. Salvation comes when we find a faith that is bigger than the institution.

  Read Luke 17:31-37. The disciples wanted to know in advance where people should go in the last days, and Jesus gave a cryptic reply, which indicated that we each need to be like the birds, open to the subtle prompting of the Holy Spirit to tell us, minute by minute, where we should go, and when.

  (Table of Contents)

  6. Counting the Cost

  Rayford looked around the interior of the high-top Leyland Daf van. It was crowded, with four men seated in the living area, but not as crowded as he had expected. Furniture consisted of assorted cabinets and pieces of timber, all of which had come from curbside throwouts. The lack of clutter was striking. There were places for each occupant to sleep, as well as for them to be seated. Everything else was neatly tucked away inside drawers and cupboards. Moving from one place to another inside the van was the biggest inconvenience, especially if anyone was trying to cook or trying to do dishes in the tiny kitchen area.

  Seated next to Rayford, on a bench at right angles to the rear of the van, was the group's youngest member, 24-year-old Martin. Martin's family came from the Czech Republic. Opposite Martin and Rayford were Reinhard and Francisco. Reinhard was 32, while Francisco was 28. Fran's mother was from Argentina. Although they had not been formally trained, all three men were natural linguists. Together, they had translated "The Fall of America" into French, German, Spanish, Czech, Russian, and even Polish.

  "How many of these do you get out in a week?" Rayford asked, fingering a copy of the booklet which had drawn his attention to the three men.

  "Couple thousand in a good week," Martin answered. Martin was in charge of statistics. He kept the group's budget, as well as keeping records on literature stocks, distribution rates, and accounts of where they had worked and when.

  "That's 100,000 in a year," noted Rayford.

  "A very good year," Martin reminded him.

  "Whatever. The point is that even in a bad year, you should be getting new members. Why are there only three of you?"

  "Two reasons," answered Francisco, who was more expressive than the other two missionaries. His hands moved constantly, and his head would jerk in time to the movements, as though pulling strings that moved his hands. Head jerks marked jumps from one thought to another.

  "What we're preaching… well, people don't wanna hear… You know, they want preachers to say soooothing things." He dragged out the word soothing, while moving his downturned hands away from one another, like a roulette croupier closing all bets. "We're talking life and death here… forsaking all… I mean giving up everything for God! Who wants to hear that?"

  "What's the second reason people don't join you?" Rayford asked.

  Reinhard answered. "Ve sink God may be hiding us from udder true beliefers. Zay, too, he must be hiding from us. One day soon ve vill come together. For now, only, he is testing, to see if ve vill cheat, and make change to our message."

  "One plants, another waters." Francisco was back. "The harvest will come. No worries. For now, they're reading. They're thinking. Hey, and they talk about it too. People tell us… every day!"

  Rayford admired the idealism of this strange trio; but he could not believe that others were not joining them now that their predictions had come true about America. And he said so.

  "Quickly people forget," Reinhard explained. "Zay are skeptical too. Already zay are saying zat our book vas written after zee attack."

  "But in their hearts they know!" boasted Francisco. "They know all right! The truth is out there in those booklets, ticking away like a time bomb. One day it'll all come out. And then… ka-POW!" He clapped his hands together to emphasise the explosion and then shot one hand up in the air like a rocket. All three faces lit up in appreciation of what Francisco was saying.

  "We're not growing in numbers; but the truth is getting out," said Martin quietly. "Nothing can stop the truth. And being right in God's eyes is more satisfying than being successful."

  "You should understand," continued Reinhard, "Ve really belief ven ve talk of heaven and God, and about Sheesus returning. Such faith shanges deeply our interest in udder sings. Ve are living for a new vorld… an eternal one. Our faith is not like vat ve call the shurchy faith."

  That was an understatement! Rayford could hardly believe that a tiny band of religious fanatics living in abject poverty could have had such a deep impact on himself. Yet they were doing just that. The truth was that he never would have given them a second thought if it had not been for the destruction of America. What a horrible price God had to pay to get his attention! Yet most of the world, even now, was more concerned about the effect on the world economy than they were about the spiritual implications of the fall of America.

  Rayford stayed talking for several hours. He treated the group to a hot meal inside the Heston services, to prolong the visit. In that time, he learned that the trio parked their van most nights in service roads behind well-equipped motorway services, because they were less likely to arouse suspicion there, near 24-hour parking lots, than if they parked on city streets. Parking at the services also meant easy access to public rest rooms and showers overnight. During the day they would distribute their tracts at nearby shopping centres, just as they had done on the streets of Hounslow earli
er that day.

  "We don't stay at the same place two nights in a row," Martin explained. "That way, they hardly notice we're there."

  The next day, Sunday, the Jesans met up with Rayford at Ruislip Country Park, for their official rest day. Rayford joined in with a group run, an informal Bible study, and a barbecue lunch, which Francisco prepared.

  "Would I have to quit my job to be a true Chris­tian?" he asked while they were eating at one of the park's few picnic tables.

  "Vat you haff to do is to obey Sheesus," said Reinhard.

  "But you just told me that he says to give up everything, and spend my time working for him!" Rayford was referring to their study of the fourteenth chapter of Luke's gospel.

  "So do vat he said," Reinhard answered. "But don't yust do it because ve said so."

  "But what about my family?"

  "Vat about dem?" Reinhard asked quietly, raising his eyebrows as he often did to emphasise a point.

  "I can't just leave them."

  "So bring zem vit you."

  "You know I can't do that. Chloe's trapped in Chicago, and I don't even know where Irene and Raymie are. They could be dead for all I know." Reinhard was not ignorant of this, for the Jesans had taken time to hear Rayford's story as well as to tell their own. But he wanted Rayford to see for himself how helpless he really was.

  Once again Francisco's enthusiasm raced ahead of Reinhard's slower approach. "See? You're holding onto something you haven't even got!" he said. "Let go! When you do, then God will show you what to do. But you can't even think about that until you forsake them first."

  Reinhard secretly signalled for Francisco to back off, leaving the group in an awkward silence for some time. They ate without speaking while Rayford engaged in a far bigger debate within his own mind. His argument was not with these relative strangers. His argument was with his Creator.