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Authors: Charles E. Butler

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BOOK: A Abba's Apocalypse
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call out loudly and repeatedly, “Amen!” The brothers reply with a more solemn and astonished, “Amen,” as they slowly savor this most abundant blessing. We immediately form a “fire detail” and quickly begin passing cots, blankets, and sleeping bags down off this mountain of supplies into a stack on the floor. The rising pile on the floor becomes almost unmanageable. We stop and grab as much as each man can

hold, and then carry the supplies back to the main area. Pastor Paul and Scotty remain in the main area and quietly distribute the bedding. Afterwards, they begin assisting each parent in setting up the cots they need. The rest of us make several return trips getting the rest of the necessities needed for tonight.

              We enter the freezer one last time and grab several cases of “grub.” I notice the exhaustion of our slowing steps as we struggle back to the main area. Gently, we set the boxes down so we don’t disturb those already sleeping. I grab a cot and set it up near the separate area where the stacks of rations now rest. Scot and my buddy Dave decide to camp alongside me. I through a MRE diner on each of their cot’s as they finish unrolling their sleeping bags. “Bon appetite,” I whisper. I return and sit on my cot, and then tear open my MRE. Dave sarcastically states, “Goody, I got a ‘ham and egg’ bar.” He sits on his cot and crosses his legs, while forcing himself to gratuitously smile between each unsavory bite. I chuckle contently under my breath at him. His action kind of puts things back into perspective after all the unbelievable events. I know now his friendship is a true friendship. And, that he hates ham and egg bar’s.

              Paul shows up and suggests we post a guard. “I think we should take turns keeping an eye on everything. You know, in case someone needs special assistance. We also need to guard against the possibility of a unforeseen fire breaking out.” We all agree each one of us will take one hour shifts the rest of the night. Paul decides to take the first shift. “No pastor, I will” I tell him. “I’m not that tired anyway; you

know-with all the excitement and all.” This is, of course, a lie. I am died tired, but Paul’s actions suggest he needs rest even

more than me. “Plus Paul, we’re going to need you more in the morning. So, get a good night’s sleep.” He grabs a cot and sets it up as I start diming the main lights. I find a comfy spot to sit located on a lonely stack of MRE. I look over the silent

multitude peacefully sleeping and wonder how my marvelous

God will deliver us from the danger and chaos laying just ahead.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 6: Abba’s Promise

 

              I hear some children whispering the latest morning news. They try being as quiet as children can, but their silly sweet giggles wake me. The precious youngsters remain as still as possible atop their cots trying their best not to wake the adults. I see some sunlight crawling across the ceiling yelling at me “Get up!” I try and force my body up, but it seems I’m heavier today. I think there must be several narrow windows near the top of this store’s walls. The light is a welcome reminder of fonder days. I reminisce of days filled with the warmth of love and the hope filled with dreams. I think how this sneaky sunlight will lift the dreariness from this place along with our spirits.

              I smell fresh coffee brewing. Oh, so many memories hit me at once. My strong desire for a cup outweighs all my present thoughts. “Morning” comes from a familiar friendly voice. I ask “Dave, you made fresh coffee?” I finish my morning greeting to him by replying to his salutation with “Right back at you-buddy.” I stare at him confused. He has never been the type to take initiative-before, but I am proud he’s trying. I tell him “Well, the coffee smells great.” Dave enlightens me on how this morning endeavor came to fruition. It’s too early for my mind to think, so I pretend to listen. I just want to sample some of the “wake up juice.” I can’t remember the last time I had real hot coffee. He continues explaining as I reach for the antidote to my sleepiness. “I got up early and remember seeing the portable stove in the supply freezer. I thought it would be nice to make coffee for everyone. I went and got the stove, but the frozen metal of the stove stuck to my hands” Dave laughs. “But, the metal defrosted as soon as I got it back here. I also found a bunch of bags containing coffee rations. Ahhh, but I couldn’t find any sugar.” I just sip my coffee and pat his shoulder with my “that’s alright” seal of approval. I squeeze out between sips “You did great Dave.”

He remarks that he might have made it a little too strong

while I swallow my next gulp of the delightful nectar. I shake my head, “No” in disagreement. “This is just fine.” I think how I need this extra black jolt of caffeine to wake up anyway. “It’s hot and ‘Jim Dandy,’ fine Davie.” He gives me a special smile for adding the “i” and “e” of affection to the end of his name. “Yep, it’s just fine.” I start on my second cup as Dave looks at the large pot and begins to worry if he’s made enough for everyone.

              The place fills with yawning and the rustling of sleeping bags. I notice a couple, far off, zooming in on the aromatic dream cloud wafting about. I see this woman sit up and turn towards the man next to her cot. She smiles and silently forms the word “Coffee” with her mouth. I reason they are probably husband and wife. They struggle to wake as I watch their feet carry them towards the heavenly smell. She graciously tries brushing decency into her hair with her hand as she dances this way. He, on the other hand, looks more like a tightrope walker fighting to keep his balance. He straddles behind her following the fine line between the cots with his outstretched arms. I enjoy this morning’s entertainment as I finish my second cup.

              Dave becomes aware of the awaking multitude wishing to sample his godly concoction. “I wonder if I made enough?” he again nervously replies. Both Dave and I hurry and shove away some of the boxes blocking his newly formed coffee stand. I try making a make shift café with tables and chairs made with some of the surrounding boxes. I look on as the wild bunch stampedes towards Dave, as he nervously asks himself again, “I wonder if I made enough?” I just laugh at my buddy, at his predicament, and at the beauty of this moment. We watch the rest of the motley crew stalk the smell. I rhetorically respond, “Ain’t it wonderful Davie; ain’t it just-wonderful!”

              Dave’s exploit helps us all remember finer times. Sometimes it’s the simple things that make the world go around. It might be the sight of children playing on the

playground, or the song of bluebird on a warm spring day. It might be a word of encouragement during the storms of life. Or, it may be just an innocent childhood memory while staring at passing clouds. I don’t know where they come from. I just know it’s those simple things that make life worth living. This morning is one of them. For me, I’ll take the simple things in my life.

              Realization approaches. Pastor Paul summons all the men to come join him. I feel the joy of the moment slipping away as my heart adjusts to the priorities of our mission. “I’m coming,” I yell, while turning to march to the meeting.

              Paul greets everyone as he bids us to come in his newly formed meeting area. He made it by shoving around stacks of MRE boxes and other supplies. I arrive as this morning’s prayer circle just as it is forming. Dave shows up and breaks the chain of joined arms. I grab his hand and reconnect while Paul begins leading us in communal prayer. “Lord, lead us in your mission to save souls. Please continue to divinely protect and provide for us. Give us the strength to carry out your will. Gives us peace to discern the things you desire. And Lord, please bless and guide us along your righteous path. Thank you God, Amen.” The group concludes the circle with our own, “Amen.”

              We retreat to the bleachers, trying to find some sort of something resembling a seat. Paul begins listing the important topics we need to discuss. Number one is: how best to organize the new living quarters. Number two on his list is: assigning certain daily responsibilities. And three is: picking leadership positions to make sure certain things are done for our mutual benefit. This includes governing and regulating our large, but limited supplies. Lastly, we discuss our new mission concerning the other Irreverent brethren throughout the area. We choose leaders and agree on work details before deciding on the most important topic.

              We try coming up with the approximate amount of Irreverent still in town. Figures differ between my “Project T”

brethren and the rest of our new Irreverent family. We estimate there may be around forty families still in town, and maybe a hundred individuals still hiding. We reason this by the amount we’ve come across on this side of town, and by the town’s actual size. The new brothers have a different picture. They believe there are at least 20 more families than we guesstimate, and maybe 50 more individuals. This puts the figure somewhere between 260 and 400 Irreverent still out there. I look at Paul as he looks at me. Our faces and eyes ask the same questions. How can we get them safely here, and how can we possibly house them all. I turn my head to estimate what 400 additional souls might look like living here. Pastor sees me shaking my head side to side in bewilderment. He responds to me by addressing us all. “The Lord gave us this place. He is protecting this place. And, He will provide for this place.” I am reminded of the constant miracles I’ve seen while hearing that faint voice whisper again, “Faith Joey.”

              I just remember; I haven’t seen Moses this morning. I look to Dave for answers. He tells me he noticed Moses gathering some stuff as he was making coffee. “I saw Moses talking with Scotty after he got his stuff ready.” I walk around the group to engage Scotty on the other side. I interrupt the conversation he’s having with his new friend. I ask, “Do you know where Moses is?” Scotty tells me, “He left about an hour ago. He was heading back to his family. He told me to tell you how grateful he was.” I worry after hearing this news. Moses is in real danger now more than ever. The LD and Demons may not be able to come onto this property, but I’m sure they are at its edge waiting for any opportunity to destroy all of us; even if it is just one Irreverent at a time. We hurt them real bad last night. I know they want revenge, and their supplies back. I know I got to go help Moses.

              “Pastor Paul, oh Pastor Paul” I command! “Over here; I need to talk to you right now!” I grab my rucksack while Paul heads over to me. I check it to make sure it still has the “bolt cutters,” rope, and little “first aid” kit. I swing the sack on my

back as the pastor arrives. “I’m going to find Moses, and if it is God’s will, to bring his family back here also.” The pastor is surprised to find out Moses left. “I guess I would do the same thing if my family were still out there,” he replies. He helps me adjust my rucksack as he prays a prayer of blessing over me. “This is a God thing Joey. I will prepare a place here for Moses and his family.” I turn my face towards his and nod, “God be with you too today.” Paul whispers back to me, “You too Joey.”

              I hurry up the roof access ladder and open the ceiling hatch, and then advance to the flat roof’s edge. Pastor Paul lowers the hatch behind me as he whispers, “Go with God and do His work.” I pan the surrounding field for LD. I don’t see any, but I know they’re there somewhere. I stare in the most likely direction Moses should have taken hoping I might still see him off in the distance. I can’t find him though. I think he is either: already caught-god forbid; or he is long gone. Either way, I’m going to find and help my brother. I’m sure the enemy is looking at all the access points on this building. I decide to descend down the rope rather than chancing any of the access ladders. I hustle to the north end of the roof and observe while sitting with my back pressed against the inner wall. I toss my rope over the edge of the store. Peeling back my watch cover I see it is 8:12 am. One last peek around and I repel over the edge and down the outer wall. I make it down and then remain motionless in a squatting position observing for LD for about a minute. Gently, I pull down my rope while staring at the perimeter. I roll it quickly and store it inside my sack. I take a last look around then run for it. I debate as I run, “Should I take the tree line, or the alleyway system?” The urgency of my mission causes me to risk detection and chose the faster alleyway system. This is probably the way Moses took to Katie’s anyway. Off in the distance is a balloon of smoke floating high in the cloudless morning sky. I see another black balloon just below the first rising above the skyline. Neither of them has a smoke trail. I conclude these

smoke clouds’ were caused by two independent explosions. From my military experience I realize only fires leave smoke trails. Explosions usually blow up most of the combustible material leaving just a balloon. These float near the area I’m headed. I pray that Katie and Moses are alright, as I shift to a different cover position along the alleyway system.

              I hear jets off in the distant sky screaming. I make out the Jets’ camouflage color identifying them as New California Guard Jets. The roars of these beasts help cover my tracks by diverting attention from me. I take advantage and double the distance between intervals of ducking, observing, and advancing. The “Doppler Effect” from the screaming jets suggests they are moving away fast and low. The fading roars gradually diminish revealing the sound of my trotting footsteps. I go back on stealth maneuver as the quiet settles in.

              I pullback the Velcro cover and see it is 9:15 am. I deduct from the time I saved, and the distance I covered, that I should be closing in on Moses. “Poof, poof” noises suddenly echo throughout the alley. I know immediately what these familiar sounds are. They’re two distinct explosions muffled by distance and elevation. It takes me a few seconds to figure out the direction and origin. “Roarrr” explodes right over my position filling my ears with a million banging drums. The jet is low enough for me to read the New California Air Guard marking. It peculiarly heads in the opposite direction of the other two jets. Evidently, it has a different target to attack. I conclude all out war has been declared on Irreverent. I stick to my mission and concentrate on my objective through all this commotion.

BOOK: A Abba's Apocalypse
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