Tribulation (26 page)

Life used to be
quite simple, really, but had gotten rather complex of late. All he
used to have to think about was survival but now, now things were
altogether different. What’s more, he was sick of being
manipulated.

He jogged on.
Dawn was coming and he needed some place to rest. At least that was
straightforward.

It turned out
that finding a place to rest for the day wasn’t all that simple
after all. At the next town – the map told him he was probably in
Bedford - he picked the first reasonably intact house he came to,
figuring one house was no different than any other to rest for the
day. He was wrong. He should have grasped the waves from their
minds, but their thoughts were so weak they hardly registered.

Kicking open
the door, he was standing amongst them before he even knew they
were there, cowering amongst the shadows. Humans. Just starting to
stir having survived the night. Probably about to go out scavenging
for the day.

He heard some
stifled screams and his hands went to his swords without thinking.
In a backroom somewhere, someone was sobbing. He was in a darkened
room. Windows bordered up and covered with curtains. Huddled in
corners on filthy mattresses were several Humans. Sam could smell
rotting flesh and he knew without a doubt, that some, if not all of
them had the plague.

It was a
surprise they were still alive. Not only had they survived the
plague and starvation, but the demons had not taken them. He
narrowed his eyes suspiciously but nothing immediately pointed to
demon worship. Striding over to one of the cowering figures, he
pulled her to her feet. It was a young woman, no more than fifteen
but so skinny and malnourished that she weighed probably half what
Aimi did – and she was tiny.

The girl tried
to push his hands away from her but she was as weak as a baby. He
turned her wrist over. Nothing. No mark. No tattoo. She wasn’t a
demon worshipper. More roughly than he intended, he checked two
more. No mark. They were clean.

“What … what do
you want?” asked a man, standing shakily. He was probably Sam’s age
but looked ten years older.

Sam held his
hands up, palms facing outwards. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare
you. I was just looking for a place to rest.”

“Perhaps, you
would like to look elsewhere,” said the man. He flinched every time
Sam looked at him. “I’m not being rude but we don’t have enough for
ourselves, let alone someone else. Besides, many of us are
sick.”

Sam smiled,
trying to reassure the obviously terrified youth. “It’s ok. I don’t
want any of your food but I do have a question for you.”

“What is it?”
asked the man, sinking to the floor. Even standing seemed to be too
much of an effort for him.

“How have you
survived? Why haven’t the demons taken you?”

The man on the
floor signed wearily. He looked at the others before replying. Sam
could see that he was considering lying but then decided against
it. “We have a generator. Underneath the house. There’s a deep well
under there as well. We grow a bit of food using hydroponics. Some
food. It’s never enough.”

“And what about
the demons?” asked Sam.

The man
shrugged. “They don’t bother us. We haven’t seen one in
months.”

Sam thought
this was strange and yet he wanted to trust these people. They
didn’t seem to have done anything wrong, their only crime being
left behind to endure the Tribulation. And he liked the fact that
they were survivors. That they had managed to start the process of
civilization again in this small town. It gave him hope - hope for
the rest of humanity that remained.

On a whim, he
unstrapped his backpack and began to rummage around, aware that the
people in the room were cringing back in terror, expecting the
worse. He pulled out two small vials and some disposable needles.
He tossed them to the man who caught them with a nervous
flutter.

“What’s this?”
the youth stammered.

“Antibiotics,”
said Sam. “It’ll get rid of the plague. Should be enough to treat
everyone if you use it sparingly. Try not to eat too many rats.”
Before he’d left, the Colonel had made him stock up on as much
antibiotics as he could carry. If rumors were to be believed, New
York was rife with the disease.

The man stood
again, tears streaming out of his eyes. “I don’t know who you are,
stranger, or why you are helping us, but I thank you,” he said. “I
thank you on behalf of all of us here. What can we do for you in
return?”

“Survive,” said
Sam. “That will be thanks enough for me.”

Around him, the
other plague victims were standing up. Sam wasn’t sure of their
intentions. He was ready for anything though but surely they
wouldn’t attack him? They simply weren’t strong enough. Were they
that desperate to get at his supplies? He shifted his feet,
readying his hands to draw both swords. The circle of shuffling
figures got closer and closer. Soon they were close enough to halt
but they didn’t stop there.

Sam didn’t like
his personal space being invaded. He wasn’t used to being touched
but he made an exception in this case as fifteen half dead, plague
ridden survivors enfolded Sam in their arms and hugged him like
they’re never hugged anyone before. Feelings stirred. Ones that at
first he couldn’t identify because he hadn’t felt them before. Then
he knew.

This was what
it felt like to feel good about yourself.

Betrayals

“
Don't let anyone
deceive you in any way, for that day will not come until the
rebellion occurs and the man of lawlessness is revealed, the man
doomed to destruction.”
2 Thessalonians 2:3

H
e spent much of the day in their safe house,
meditating, cleaning his weapons but mostly just watching. He had
to hand it to them - they were certainly industrious. Even without
much energy, on the verge of starvation, disease ridden, they moved
with a purpose. Everybody in the small community seemed to have a
job which they approached with as much enthusiasm as Sam had seen
anywhere.

All told, there
were just over twenty people living in the building, mostly
teenagers or in their early twenties. One girl looked around twelve
and there was a man who was probably in his thirties or forties. It
was so hard to tell though. The layer of grime and ash on their
skin was so ingrained it looked painted on.

The antibiotics
had done their job. The few that had seemed to be on death’s brink
had now been brought back from the edge and had improved
considerably. Most even joined the others at their assigned
tasks.

Sam ventured
downstairs and viewed their hydroponic operation. He understood why
the generators only operated during the day. They created quite a
bit of noise – noise that could be heard from almost a block away.
Even if demons didn’t seem to be a problem, if stumbled upon by
demon worshippers or those that just preyed on the weak, the
results could potentially be devastating. Demon worshippers,
especially, seemed to be more active at night so he understood
their caution.

Not only that,
they also went through a fair amount of gasoline. While gasoline
didn’t appear to be in drastically short supply, one of the men
told him that they’d almost exhausted local supplies and now had to
search further afield. This took time, effort and man-power – all
things which the small community lacked.

Of course this
created its own problems. The plants they were growing – lettuce
and tomatoes mostly – were suffering from lack of sunlight, and
most looked sickly and limp. Sam even saw signs of disease on the
plants. Even here, away from the surface and the deadly, Hell-like
environment, they still suffered, a reflection of the conditions
above.

This food
couldn’t possibly feed everyone here. Sure, it was probably enough
to ward off complete starvation, but only just. Thankfully, the
water supplied by the well was relatively fresh so at least that
wasn’t a problem. For meat, like most other survivor living outside
army bases, they caught and ate rats. Sam didn’t blame them. He saw
the amount of traps set and was surprised they weren’t catching
more than they were. One of the survivors told him that rats were
in short supply lately. It seemed that even rats were beginning to
starve but that wasn’t surprising. What on Earth were the rats
eating in the first place? Most plants were dead, pretty much every
animal. Sam hadn’t thought about it before and asked some of the
workers around the hydroponic plant.

Insects, they
replied. Accustomed to gutting these animals, they’d seen exactly
what was in their stomachs. Ah, yes. Of course. The rats were
eating insects, and why not? Since the Rapture, insects like
cockroaches and locusts had thrived in the hot conditions. And
plagues came in other forms, too.

Their openness
surprised him. He knew that they now trusted him because he’d given
them antibiotics but that usually wasn’t enough these days. How did
they not know he wasn’t a wolf in sheep’s clothing, here to gain
their trust before betraying them? The answer was, they didn’t.
They couldn’t. They were just good, trusting people despite what
they’d been though. They seemed to accept him at face value. Not
one of them questioned the hood that was constantly on his head.
They even offered him what small amounts of food they had. It was a
humbling gesture and one that brought a surge of protective anger.
Even though he had to move on, he would keep an eye on these
people, making sure they came to no harm.

The house
itself, surprisingly, was in fairly good condition. It had escaped
unscathed from the earthquakes and other natural disasters – just
better than most structures. The fairly common subsidence cracks
were evident and some scorch and burn marks here and there, but
other than that, it was mostly intact. It hadn’t been just pure
luck him picking that house out of every one in Bedford. It was
also one of the few that were even in slightly habitable condition.
The rest of the houses in the town had suffered the worst that the
Tribulation could throw at them: many had been completely destroyed
by earthquakes; others had been gutted by fire, victims of the
increasingly regular fire-storms.

These poor
examples of humanity had survived more by good luck than anything
else. And Sam discovered that this luck ran deeper than he
expected.

According to
the survivors, Bedford and the surrounding area of Bedford County
had several churches representing various denominations. Not that
it mattered. Demons didn’t differentiate between Christian biblical
interpretation. One church was as good as any other to them.

He couldn’t
really spare the time, but he needed to find out for himself. Even
though his gut told him they were good people, he needed to make
sure. As dusk fell and the others starting settling down for the
night, he got the directions to a few neighboring churches and set
off in search of them. What he found surprised him.

Every single
one had been completely destroyed. Not only that, but Sam suspected
that the ground had been blessed and purified with Holy water. As
far as he knew, it was the only sure fire way of ensuring that
demons couldn’t use it as a portal. He’d encountered a few like
these in his travels but not several altogether. Whoever had done
this had been thorough and discreet. The survivors weren’t even
aware of their good fortune. No wonder there were no demons around.
There were simply no portals for them to use.

Something Grace
had said back at the base came back to him. She’d said that many
were just paying lip service in order to avoid going to Hell. But
it didn’t work like that. People needed to believe, to have faith
and to welcome Jesus into their hearts. It was the only way they
were going to avoid the pit for eternity.

Sam understood
that – probably better than most, not that it was going to do him
any good. But fear, hope and belief all had parts to play in this
drama. People could change. Sometimes all they needed was a
catalyst. And what better catalyst than the Tribulation and
possibly eternal damnation? If that wasn’t a reason to change your
opinions, Sam didn’t know what was. Of course, it would be better
if people altered because of love and a willingness to be better,
but those were emotions and thoughts in short supply at
present.

What the
purified church grounds taught him was that at least one person
wandering around in this post-apocalyptic landscape had belief and
faith. True belief, strong enough to work miracles. Clearly, this
person had lacked this faith prior to the Rapture, otherwise they
would’ve been taken. They didn’t now though. It must have been
strong to undertake such works.