The End is Now (31 page)

The more Amy thought about things, the more she experienced this deep-down, primal need to reunite her family. She was the
mother and that was her job. She took a swig of coffee, picked up the phone, and dialed Emily’s number again. And to Amy’s
surprise she answered. “Hi, Mom?”

“Emily, there you are. Where have you been?”

“I stayed at Curtis’ house last night?”

“You what?”

“Don’t get all freaked out, we stayed in different rooms and we didn’t even do anything.”

“Have you done something before?” Amy knew she was going off track but she had to ask this question. This was the roller coaster
of being a parent. One moment you’re so happy just to be talking with your daughter. And then the next your daughter says
something like, “We didn’t do anything.” It was as if Emily was saying we did things other nights, but last night we abstained.
And that made Amy feel like a first-time skydiver who’d just jumped from a plane and forgotten her parachute. “Emily, have
you? Have you done something before? Anytime before?”

“Gross! No, Mom.”

“Okay, why didn’t you come home?”

“Because, I don’t know, everything’s been crazy at home. I wanted to get away.”

“Oh, it’s been crazy at home. I’m so sorry. Has it ever occurred to you it’s been crazy for all of us?”

“I understand, Mom. I know it has been.”

“Do you realize your father’s in jail right now?”

“Still? Are you sure?”

“What do you mean, am I sure? Of course I’m sure. If he wasn’t in jail he’d be home by now.”

“It’s just, I talked to Mr. Clayton and he said he was going to get Dad out of jail.”

“You talked to who?”

“Mr. Clayton.”

“As in Mayor Clayton?”

“Yes.”

“As in the Antichrist mayor?”

“Mom, you don’t know that he’s the Antichrist.”

“You don’t know that he’s
not
the Antichrist. And why were you talking to him?”

“Because I was at his house and I told him about Dad — ”

“Wait, you’re dating the Antichrist’s son?”

“We’re not dating exactly, we’re just going to homecoming together.”

Amy didn’t say anything for a moment. She took another drink of cold/hot coffee (she still wasn’t sure which it was — but
at this point it was fuel) and then said, “Emily, I need you to come home right now. Thing are getting very tense and you
need to be with your family.”

“Mr. Clayton says things are going back to normal.”

“Well, he’s the Antichrist, honey. He would want things to go back to normal.”

“The Antichrist wants things to go back to normal?”

“No, the Antichrist wants you to
think
things are going back to normal. You know what, I don’t have time to argue. Come home so you can watch your brother and I
can find your dad.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I’ll check with the mayor and make sure he gets Dad out. I love you, Mom.” Click. She hung up. Just like
that. On her own mother. Amy was ready to dial her again but that’s when the phone rang.

“Mrs. Henderson?”

It was that kid from the police station. “Yes.”

“I have good news. Your husband’s been let out.”

“When was he let out?”

“I think about three hours ago.”

“Three hours? You couldn’t have called me sooner?”

“I’m sorry, it’s been very busy around here.” And that’s when Amy slammed the phone down. Jeff’s been out for three hours
and he hasn’t come home? Hasn’t even called? Enough of this. Enough sitting around and waiting while her town was falling
apart and her family was out there doing God knows what.

“Will, honey, come on. It’s time to go.”

Will’s mom wouldn’t tell him where they were going. Wherever it was, she seemed like she was in a hurry to get there. As soon
as he was awake, she told him to get ready. As soon as he was ready, they got in the car and drove. On their way to wherever
it was they were going, they saw something funny. They drove by Nate Jackson’s house and his whole family was in the driveway.
Mrs. Jackson was cramming their car topper and trunk with suitcases, portable appliances, groceries, cats, dogs, hamsters,
goldfish, and any other possessions that would fit inside. It looked like they were packing anything they owned that would
spoil or die, like they were planning on leaving for a long time.

His mom pulled the car to a stop, rolled down the window, and asked Mrs. Jackson, “Where are you going?”

Mrs. Jackson walked up to the car and peeked inside. “Oh, hi, Amy,” she said. “Are you okay? You look — ” Mrs. Jackson, stopped,
as if she was searching for the right word, “ — tired.”

“I’m all right. It’s been a tough couple of days,” his mom answered.

“That’s why we’re leaving,” Mrs. Jackson said. “We just can’t handle all of this anymore.”

“You can’t leave now. We need people like you.”

“I know, but all of this,” Mrs. Jackson said, looking towards the Goodland skyline, “is more than we bargained for. After
Paul’s accident and everything else, it’s more than we can handle, Amy. We’re not strong like you are.” Mrs. Jackson looked
over towards her husband. He was wearing a neck brace. And their car was packed now. Will could see Nate inside reading a
comic. He wondered if he’d ever see his friend again. “Listen, I’ll see you later Amy.”

“If the Lord tarries,” Will’s mom said.

“Yes, if the Lord tarries,” Mrs. Jackson said and then got in the minivan with her family.

“Let’s go, Will.” Amy rolled up the window and sped away from the Jacksons’ house.

“Why is Nate leaving?” Will asked his mom.

“I’m not sure, honey. Probably because they’re scared of the unknown. That’s what happens even to people of faith,” she explained.
“They get tested. Sometimes it’s too much and they give in to their fears. That’s why we must be brave in these final hours.”

“Okay, Mom,” Will said. It was in the same tone of voice that he used when he said that he’d brush his teeth or that he’d
do his homework. He thought he should use a different tone of voice when it came to being brave about the rapture, but he
didn’t have a brave rapture tone yet. He’d have to work on that in the next twenty-four hours.

After Nate’s, they continued to drive. Even though his mom seemed in a hurry, she also didn’t seem to know where she was going.
She turned up Main Street and began to drive through downtown Goodland. That’s when they saw a gathering of people — maybe
250 or 300. It was some sort of rally. A large banner hung over the old movie theater and asked, “Are You Prepared?” There
were people ringing enormous bells and wearing sandwich boards that read, “The End Is Now.” Some were handing out pamphlets
and fliers. Others in the group preached at people as they walked by. And a few in the group were smiling and handing out
flowers and last Christmas’s leftover candy canes as folks walked up to the information booth. Even though everyone was doing
something different, to Will it looked like they all had one goal — to attract as much attention to themselves as possible.

Amy parked the car and started walking towards the rally. Will asked if they should be looking for Dad and Amy answered, “We
can’t just sit around and wait for your father anymore. Time is too precious.” She seemed very tired and even more frazzled
as she said this. Her eyes were glassy and focused on nothing but the rally. If Will was honest with himself, she didn’t even
seem like his mom. He thought he knew why she was acting like this. It was because they weren’t all together, they were only
half a family, and what’s the point of being raptured as half a family? In the last few days his mom had talked about how
great it would be to lead Goodland though these final turbulent times as a family, but now they couldn’t even lead themselves.
And in the process him mom stopped seeming like herself. She was more like some depressed, stressed-out stranger. Will didn’t
understand people who could get so depressed. He had a friend at school who often got very sad for long stretches and for
no reason at all. He had to take medicine called Prozac.

“What does Prozac do?” Will asked his friend once.

“It makes you feel better,” his friend said.

“So it makes you happy?”

“Not exactly.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Let me explain it like this: Have you ever burned your hand with a lighter just because you were so sad? Just because you
wanted to feel something?”

What kind of person wants to burn their hand on purpose? It can get infected and cause gangrene, and Will learned in Boy Scouts
that if something gets infected with gangrene, then it sometimes has to be amputated. Seems pretty stupid to do that to yourself
just because you can’t feel anything. If you weren’t sure if you could feel, you should go to the doctor. But Will had the
feeling that when his friend asked the question —
just because you wanted to feel something
— he meant it in the deeper teenager way. It was something one of Emily’s friends would have said. Will didn’t quite understand
the deeper teenager questions yet. And because he didn’t want his friend to feel even worse or to get more depressed, he answered,
“Yeah, I’ve felt like that before.”

“Well, that’s what Prozac does. It keeps you from feeling like that.”

“That makes sense,” Will said, even though it didn’t make a bit of sense. But what also didn’t make sense was his mom being
so sad. She’d gotten what she wanted. He gave the prophecy in front of the entire town last night and she was so excited about
that, and yet ever since then she’d seemed hopeless. It was probably because his dad got arrested. But if that was the case,
they should be looking for him. They should get him out of jail. But she didn’t seem interested in doing that. The only thing
she seemed interested in was being sad. Sad enough to burn her hand with a lighter.

Maybe she needed Prozac.

When Will and his mom came up to the rally they were greeted by a man in a white cowboy hat with a raspy voice. “Well, if
it isn’t the little prophet,” the man said. He grasped Will’s hand and gave it a violent shake. Quickly everyone noticed Will.
They dropped their flowers, pamphlets, and candy canes and gathered around him. They all wanted to shake his hand and hug
him. They said things like, “Thank you for being so brave last night. Thank you for being so wise. So fearless. Thanks for
sharing everything you’ve seen. Did you know that was going to happen to the mayor? That he was going to die just like that?
How did you know? What’s going to happen next?”

“I didn’t know he was going to die, and I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” Will answered. “I gave the final sign last
night.”

The crowd seemed deflated by this admission.

“Do you think today is our last day in Goodland?” someone asked.

“Last day?” Will replied.

“The rooster crows before the harvest. The corn harvest begins tomorrow, right?”

“I think so,” Will answered. He wished people would keep their questions to only the prophecies. Even though he didn’t know
much about the prophecies, he knew a lot less about the corn harvest or anything else farming related.

“Well, the harvest is tomorrow,” another voice explained.

“Okay,” Will said.

“And the rooster always crows at sunrise,” the person stated.

“Right,” Will answered, though he’d have to take this person’s word for it. They didn’t have a rooster so Will didn’t know
exactly how they worked.

“Well, if the rooster crows at sunrise, and the end is before the harvest, then we can pinpoint exactly when the rapture is.”

“Really?” Will said, finally finding himself curious for the first time in this whole conversation.

The person went on to explain, “The almanac has sunrise at 6:11 on Sunday, the day the harvest begins. If that’s the case,
then we can know exactly when the rapture will hit. We can give people that moment to prepare themselves.”

“That’s why we’re here today,” the man with the raspy voice and white hat said. “We want Goodland to know they can now set
their clocks, and if they do not get things right before 6:11 on Sunday morning, then they will be separated from God and
perhaps from their own families for all of eternity.”

Will was ready to respond, but he noticed the eyes of all who were just looking at him were now looking past him. Will turned
around and he saw that police cars and members of the EPF were everywhere. Sirens blared. Their cars were coming up in force
and circling around the movie theater. They were barricading the rally. Officers with giant shields, clubs, gas grenades,
helmets, and face masks started to get out of their cars. One officer shouted into a megaphone, “Disperse immediately. This
meeting is in violation of the mayor’s assembly code.”

“We’re not listening to any code that comes from the Antichrist!” one person shouted. And then he threw something.

That was all it took.

The officers charged, and everyone in the rally grabbed something to fight back with. It looked like one of those scenes from
Braveheart
or
The Patriot
where two armies collided with each other at full speed. Those movies were rated R, but Will was only allowed to watch them
because they had Mel Gibson in them and his mom said anything with Mel Gibson in it didn’t actually count as being rated R.
But Will was glad he’d seen those movies because it helped him make sense of what this scene looked like.

He knew from those movies that he could get attacked from anywhere and he should duck for cover. But before Will could think
of where to go he was grabbed by an EPF officer and thrown into a police car. The officer slammed the door. Will was forced
to watch the scene through the window of the car. He watched as a bottle smashed off the head of an officer. One man got hit
with a club. The man in the white hat grabbed a folding chair and cracked it over the back of an officer. Then one family
who was just standing by got plowed down by officers with police shields.

Things were out of control. And that might have been why the officers uncorked their gas bombs and threw them into the crowd.