Angel of the Apocalypse (4 page)

God
climbed out of the limo and stood before the Gates of Hell. “Open
up, Lucy. You know why I'm here.” Michael stood behind God,
ready to protect his Lord, if necessary.

After
a moment, the Gates of Hell creaked open. Out walked Orville and the
Devil, who had an impish grin on his face. “God! It's been eons
since you paid me a visit! To what do I owe this unexpected
pleasure?” he mocked.

“
Oh,
cut the crap, you know why I'm here,” seethed God.

“
Yes,
but I want to hear it from you, Joe.”

“
Don't
call me that, you know my name's Jehovah.”

“
Fine,
stop calling me Lucy.”

“
Stop
acting like a child!” replied God.

The
Devil feigned concern. “But I
am
your child, aren't I?
Aren't we all God's little children?” He paused, then looked at
Michael. “Hey Mike. Long time, no see.”

Michael
stood stone faced, with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I
have nothing to say to you, Devil.”

The
Devil genuinely looked hurt. “Aw, Michael. We used to be such
good friends.” He then turned to God. “Really? Using an
archangel as your chauffeur? Real classy.”

“
Cut
it out,” snapped God. “I want to know how you stopped the
Rapture.”

“
Yeah,
sorry that didn't work out for you,” the Devil replied. He
paused to savor the moment, and looked at his fingernails in a bored
fashion. “It wasn't that hard, you know. Whatever you create, I
can destroy. Isn't that why you made me? To take care of all the
nasty business that you didn't want to be associated with?”

“
What
are you talking about?” replied God.

“
I
think you know exactly what I'm talking about.”

The
two deities looked at each other with contempt. Likewise, Orville
looked at Michael with feigned contempt. “Don't even think
about trying anything,” commanded the short, bald demon.

Michael
looked at the diminutive demon dismissively. “Try what?”

“
Uh...anything!”
replied Orville, with his arms folded across his chest. “I
don't want to have to kick your ass.”

Michael
was easily three times the size of the small demon. “Whatever,”
he said, rolling his eyes.

“
Yeah,
that's what I thought,” replied Orville, triumphantly.

“
Boys,
boys, behave yourselves,” said the Devil. He then turned to
God. “What am I talking about? Prophecy, that's what. What made
you think that I was going to play by your rules? It was rather short
sighted of you to have all your little prophecies written down in the
bible. At any time I could have stepped in and put an end to all of
that nonsense. And why not? For thousands of years humanity struggled
to understand your message – trumpets blaring, censers being
thrown down, ten headed beasts. Seriously, who has time for any of
that nonsense? To top it all off, you gave no sign of your presence
or authority to your followers for those thousands of years, and yet
they still adore you. Well, the Christians at least. To Hell with all
that, I say.”

The
Devil paused to study the reaction on God's face, which was contorted
into a scowl. “Now, now. What happened to the God of love? The
God of forgiveness?” said the Devil. He then stepped forward
and pointed a finger in God's face. “You made me the Destroyer.
What else was I going to do? You made me just as powerful as you, so
I could take care of all the dirty business that
you
didn't
have the stomach for. The natural order of things was always life and
death. Love and hate. Good and bad. You didn't want to be burdened
with all the 'bad' stuff, so you made
me
. I was to take care
of the evil side of things, so people could see you as the God of
love and everything good. You didn't want the responsibility of
dealing with the bad, as well as the good. So you consigned all the
undesirable crap to me, and you expect
me
to play by the
rules? I
am
the Destroyer, and I will destroy
you
.”

God's
demeanor softened. He realized that nothing productive could come of
this meeting. He shook his head and said, “Son, I didn't make
you the Destroyer.
Pride
destroyed you.” He turned and
walked back to the limo. Before opening the door, God turned around
and addressed the Devil. “If it's a war you want, a war is what
you will get.”

With
that, God and Micheal got into the limo, turned around, and headed
back down the crooked road. The sound of millions of demons laughing,
followed them to the edge of Hell.

Due
to the enormous number of people dying from disease, Pastor Abrams
was not able to secure a funeral service for his wife. All the
funeral homes in the area (in fact, all across the world) were simply
too busy to take in any more business. Instead, the pastor made all
the arrangements himself. And since many of the people in his
congregation also had the same problem with deceased family members,
the pastor decided to make one large, all-encompassing funeral
service to accommodate all the people who were left behind.

On a
somber Friday afternoon, with dense clouds looming overhead,
twenty-three coffins were lined out in the field behind the Covenant
Church. The coffins were covered in flowers. Gospel music gently
played from the church organ. Nearly the entire church congregation
sat quietly in fold-out chairs, waiting patiently on the pastor to
start his eulogy. From time to time, soft cries were heard from the
small crowd, from family members mourning their loss.

Pastor
Justin D. Abrams walked towards the podium that was situated in front
of the twenty-three coffins. He paused for a moment as he passed by
the coffin of his wife Sarah, and briefly touched the edge of the
wooden casket. He then got behind the podium and look at his
congregation with sad, weary eyes.

He
could see his son quietly sitting in the front row. Isaac was
slightly bent over in his chair, looking at the ground. The pastor
didn't think his son understood the full weight of what had happened
to his mom...or the rest of the world, for that matter. The rest of
the congregation looked expectantly at him. The pastor cleared his
throat.

“
What
is a life well lived?” asked the pastor. “We are born
painfully into this chaotic world. We are born helpless and
screaming. It is only through the love and grace of our parents that
we eventually find our place in this life. The guidance of a father,
the love of a mother, the hope provided by a son or daughter. It is
family that first binds us to each other.” The pastor looked
into the eyes of his congregation, who were so desperately looking
for words of comfort.

“
Our
families then reach out to friends, and the community,” the
pastor continued. “And the community and our friends become our
second family. It is these interlocking relationships that bind us
all together, that make us one.”

The
pastor paused for a moment, as he heard one person from the
congregation burst into tears. “When one of the people in our
family dies, whether it's our biological family, our family of
friends, or even a member of our community dies, death takes a part
of our soul with them. We physically and emotionally feel this loss
within ourselves. In the last week, our community,
our family
,
lost twenty three souls. That leaves each of us with twenty three
empty rooms in our heart. Rooms that were filled with love and
laughter only one week ago. They were souls that were taken away from
us too soon, and left us with unanswered questions.

“
These
are truly difficult times, and in these times it might be easy to
raise your fist at the sky and scream at God, 'Why? Why would you do
this to your children?' But the souls of the twenty-three loved ones
behind me were not yours to keep. They are God's souls. They are His
to give and take. And even though it is sometimes beyond our
understanding, we must have faith. For it is in His greater purpose
that he called our loved ones back to Him, and it is in our greater
purpose to remain strong in our faith.

“
It
is thought that these are the end times, and I have heard whispers of
doubt. 'Why were we left behind?' I have heard people say. 'Why are
we forsaken?' As believers, it is our duty to remain strong, to be
God's soldiers. If these truly are the end times, then now more than
ever before, it is our duty to remain strong in the face of doubt. It
is our duty to remain strong in the face of evil.”

The
pastor stopped his speech and glanced over his right shoulder,
looking at his wife's coffin once again. He then looked at his
congregation. Sad, weary eyes looked back at him. He could only wish
that he was able to provide a brief glimmer of hope to those who were
left behind. “Let us bow our heads and pray.”

Arrangements
were made to bury the bodies in an open field, out in the country. At
this point, nearly ten percent of the world's population was
decimated by the disease. Cemeteries were overflowing with bodies, so
local governments across the country made plans for designated burial
sites.

Normally,
funeral homes provide comfort and guidance to families that were
dealing with loss. Unfortunately, since all the funeral homes were
booked for months, families had to take it upon themselves to bury
their dead. It was the most difficult of times. Just as people were
burying one family member, another would come down with sickness.

Still
no word on where the disease came from, and scientists still didn't
have an answer as to how to cure the infection. Riots broke out in
many major cities across the world as food, water, power, and
sanitation services were disrupted from lack of qualified workers.
Despite assurances from the government that everything was under
control, the economy crashed, causing millions of layoffs.

Emergency
supplies, medical aid, and food were provided by local and national
government agencies, but many areas of the county were in desperate
need of help. Police used militarized force to try to keep order, but
some areas were too far gone. Armed thugs prowled the streets,
stealing food, money, supplies...whatever they could. Most cities
initiated a curfew at 9pm every night. Loudspeakers across each city
urged citizens to stay indoors. The National Guard policed most major
metropolitan areas, patrolling streets in armored Humvee's. Conflicts
between the National Guard and armed thugs often broke out into
bloody gun fights. Dead bodies littered the streets. Society was on
the fringe of collapse.

Pastor
Abrams tried to keep some semblance of sanity by offering meetings
every evening in his church. Whoever needed help, not just the
members of his congregation, but anyone that needed a shoulder to
lean on were welcomed with open arms.

After
a few weeks, the pastor received a call from channel 9 News. They
were doing a news story on the end of times, and wanted the input
from a minister to have a debate with a scientist about what exactly
was going on in the world. Channel 9 News wanted pastor Abrams to
argue the religious side of things, while the scientist would try to
offer a more logical explanation as to the nature of the disease that
was decimating the world's population.

With
a bit of hesitation, Pastor Abrams accepted the offer. If I can
provide some small comfort to someone out there...it will be worth
it, he thought.

That
night, the pastor studied his notes on Revelations, and tried to
think of answers to possible arguments the scientist might present
him with.

After
studying for nearly four hours, the pastor walked to his son's
bedroom and tucked him into bed. “Tomorrow's a big day, Isaac.
You're going to see your daddy on TV.”

Isaac
looked at his dad. The pastor appeared older, with weary eyes and
graying hair. In the distance, the boy could hear the muffled sound
of the community loudspeaker that was blaring a few blocks down the
street. “It is now 9pm, all citizens are required to be in
their homes. I repeat: for your protection, stay in your homes.”

“
Are
things going to get better, dad?” asked Isaac.

“
I
sure hope so, son.”

“
Why
is God doing this?”

The
pastor hesitated. He almost answered his son with scripture, but at
that moment he felt such a response was inappropriate. He put his
hand on his son's heart and said, “I don't know, son. I don't
know.”

That
night, the pastor had another dream. Seven archangels stood before
him, each with flaming swords pointed at his chest. One of the
archangels spoke in a commanding voice, “You are an abomination
to His glory.” The archangel raised his sword high into the
air, and slashed it downward toward the pastors head. The pastor
woke, drenched in sweat.