Angel of the Apocalypse (3 page)

The
boxing match was stopped by the referee. The fight doctor rushed into
the ring and started to check the boxer who was writhing on the
canvas in agony. A moment later the sports station switched to an
emergency broadcast.

“
We
interrupt this program to bring you an important news bulletin.
Several thousand cases of an unidentified disease have been reported
throughout the world. As a precaution, all public transportation has
been shut down until we can determine the source of the outbreak. It
is advised that all people remain in their homes until we have
further information.”

The
news bulletin then displayed a map of the world, with reported cases
of the disease showing up as red dots. Every second or two, a new red
dot appeared at a seemingly random location on the map. Every
continent already had thousands of red dots, with more being added as
the seconds ticked by.

“
That
doesn't make any sense,” commented the pastor. “A disease
starts in one location, and spreads out from there. This seems to be
happening everywhere at once.” He looked at his wife, as if
looking for answers.

“
I
think it's best if we all go home,” said one of the guests. “We
all have family we need to call.”

“
Absolutely,”
said the pastor. “If you have any problems, anything at all,
just call me. We'll be praying for you and your families.”

The
guests nervously left the pastor's house. Pastor Abrams and his wife
sat in front of the TV and watched the news reports roll in. By
midnight, millions of cases of infection were reported all across the
world. Every five to ten minutes, the phone would ring with another
concerned member of the church calling in to see if the pastor and
his family were OK. The pastor consoled each caller, and assured them
that he would pray for their families. And yes, church service would
start as normal tomorrow morning.

“
Are
you sure that's a good idea?” asked Sarah, as the pastor
completed yet another call with a concerned church member. “Shouldn't
everyone stay in their homes to prevent infection?”

“
People
are scared,” replied the pastor. “They need help. They
need guidance. I'm not sure if the disease-” he stopped as
another violent image of the Antichrist flashed across his mind.
“I...”

“
Justin,
are you OK?” asked Sarah.

“
Yes,
I just...I think we should get some sleep. We have a big day
tomorrow.”

The
pastor slept fitfully. He dreamed of a giant red dragon with ten
heads, rising from the ocean. The dragon emerged from the water and
walked towards him. One of the great dragon heads, wearing a crooked
crown, bent low to the ground and spoke in a voice that sounded like
thunder. “Little man of God, were is your faith now?”

The
pastor shot bolt upright in bed. Staring ahead with wide eyes and
sweating profusely, the pastor nervously looked at his hands and
arms. Luckily, there was no sign of disease. He then turned to his
wife, who was just waking up. She also appeared to be OK. “Thank
God,” he mumbled under his breath. “Isaac!”

“
Yeah?”
he heard a voice answer from his son's room.

“
Is
everything all right?” asked the pastor.

“
Yeah.
Why?”

“
Never
mind.” The pastor didn't want to alarm his son.

“
Are
you
OK?” asked his wife, rubbing the sleep away from her
eyes.

“
Yes.
Come on, we need to get ready for church.”

The
two got out of bed. The pastor took a shower while his wife made
breakfast. They could hear Isaac in his room playing video games.

Breakfast
was spent eating cereal and watching the morning news. The disease
continued to spread. An estimated 350 million people were now
infected – nearly five percent of the world's population.

Not
much was said that morning. After breakfast, the Abrams family
quietly got dressed and walked across the street to church. Only
about half the usual Sunday crowd arrived that morning. They filed
in, nervous and apprehensive, but glad to be among friends.

The
congregation was seated quietly before the pastor. He looked at them
with sympathetic eyes and spoke, “I want to thank everyone for
coming here this Sunday morning. Instead of the usual sermon, I think
we should take this time to comfort each-”

Thunder
boomed overhead, shaking the walls of the small church. Most of the
congregation peered out the windows, as they watched dark rolling
clouds cover the sky. More thunder roared overhead.

“
Looks
like we're in for a bit of weather,” remarked the pastor. “I've
brought in the TV, so we can look at news updates as they happen. As
I was saying, I think we should use this time to console each other.
This is a frightful time for all of us. Please turn to your neighbor,
whoever is to the left or right of-”

“
BOOM!”
Another round of thunder cracked just overhead.

“
Pastor
Abrams?” Winston, an old Irish man sitting in the next to last
row of pews raised his hand.

“
Yes,
Winston?” asked the pastor.

The
old man paused for a moment. His voice slightly cracked when he said,
“I got a call this morning that Ru-”

“
BOOM!”
Thunder cracked yet again.

“
What
was that, again?” the pastor asked, cupping his hand behind his
ear. “I couldn't hear you.”

Winston
repeated, speaking louder this time. “I received a call early
this morning from Ruth's daughter. Ruth...she passed away last night
from the disease.”

The
pastor paused behind his podium. Ruth had been to every Sunday
morning service without fail since he became a pastor at this church
six years ago. Before he could say something to comfort the
congregation, the TV flickered and the news broadcast was replaced
with the image of a very good looking man wearing a gray business
suit. The man had pale skin and appeared to have two small horns
protruding from his temples.

“
Good
morning sports fans!” said the man enthusiastically. “We
interrupt your regularly scheduled Apocalypse to bring you this
important new bulletin. It has been said that all of God's children
will be taken up in the Rapture before the Tribulation.” The
pale man on the TV screen paused, savoring the moment. “Lies!
Only one man has been found worthy of entering the kingdom of
Heaven.”

From
the front row pew, Fred stood up. “Hey, this guy is on my cell
phone, too!” Fred turned around and showed the rest of the
congregation the image of the pale man on his cell phone.

Pastor
Abrams took out his cell phone from his pocket. There was the image
of the pale man. It was as if this pale man – this
devil
– was looking at him specifically. The pastor could see other
people in the congregation taking out their cell phones, revealing
the image of the same man. Apparently, this was some kind of
world-wide broadcast across all media devices. Was such a thing even
possible?

The
pale man continued, “And who is this lucky person, the only man
worthy enough to enter God's kingdom?” mocked the Devil.
“Sources say, he lives in California. Let's take a look, shall
we? We go now to our news correspondent Orville, who is live on the
scene.”

The
on-screen image of the Devil switched to a confused looking old man
who was barbecuing hot dogs in his back yard. The man turned around
and looked directly into the camera and said, “Who the fuck are
you?” he asked of the short, demonic looking fellow who was
holding the camera.

The
camera briefly turned around to reveal Orville. “Wazzup!”
croaked the demonic reporter, before training the camera back on the
old man.

“
Now
wait just a minute, here!” yelled the old man. “What the
hell are you doing in my back yard?”

Before
Orville could answer, the clouds overhead broke apart and a single
ray of golden light fell upon the man. Still holding a spatula, the
old geezer began to rise from the ground and was lifted upwards, into
the clouds.

“
Dude,”
said Fred, watching the newscast on his cell phone. “The
Rapture is only taking one person?”

“
I
don't know,” replied another member of the congregation.

On
that day, the entire world watched as a single old man was lifted
into the clouds and was accepted into God's kingdom. Each man, woman,
and child the world over had a puzzled look on their face.

The
image on-screen changed back to the grinning Devil. “Well,
that's all for now, sports fans. We now return you to your regularly
scheduled Apocalypse.”

The
TV picture then changed back to the station broadcast, which was
showing a map of the world, with reported infections being displayed
with red dots. The dots seemed much more numerous than before. The
pastor heard a scream from the congregation. It was his wife.
“Sarah!” shouted the pastor.

Sarah
was covered with boils across her face and arms. Crying, she
whimpered, “Justin, help me.”

The
pastor raced to his wife's side, careful not to touch her exposed
flesh. “Sarah...no,” he whispered.

She
coughed into her hand. After another fit of coughing that lasted
several minutes, specks of blood could be seen covered her hand.

“
Hold
on honey, we'll call an ambulance.”

The
pastor dialed 911 on his cell phone. After being on hold for ten
minutes, a message informed him that all emergency lines were busy,
and to be patient. “No!” cried the pastor. He looked at
his wife helplessly. “What can I do, Sarah? I don't know what
to do,” the pastor cried.

His
wife looked at him with compassionate eyes. “Just hold me,”
she said, as blood trickled from her mouth. “Just give me one
last dance.”

The
pastor held his wife with a painful intensity. They stood in the
center of the church, steadily rocking back and forth to a silent
song, that only they could hear in their minds. Not caring about the
disease, the pastor embraced his wife even tighter, as he felt her
life slipping away. “Take care of our son,” she
whispered. Then her head fell forward, and rested on the pastor's
shoulder.

Pastor
Abrams stood there in the middle of the church, holding the lifeless
body of his wife, as the congregation watched in sorrow.

Winston,
the old man from the back row, softly began to sing an old Irish
dirge. The rest of the congregation joined him with somber respect.
The pastor, still clutching his wife, fell to his knees and whimpered
softly. She was gone.

*
* * * * * *

God
sat behind a large white-oak desk, watching the Devil's broadcast
with unbridled rage. “How dare he!” cursed God.
“Michael!” He called out.

“
Yes,
father?” said Michael, bowing before God.

“
Get
my limo, we're going to take a little trip,” God replied.

A
few minutes later, a pristine white stretch-limo made it's way down
the driveway to God's house. Michael got out of the limo and opened
the passenger door for God. “Where are we going?” asked
Michael.

“
You
know where,” replied God, still seething.

“
Of
course, my Lord.” Michael climbed into the driver's side of the
limo, and put it into gear. He drove to the end of the driveway and
made a left, towards Hell. Thinking that God could use some music to
calm his nerves, the archangel reached into the glove-box, and
inserted a gospel CD into the CD player.

“
And
turn off that damn music!” God bellowed. He was inconsolable.
Thousands of years of planning and prophecies had been ruined by the
Devil. How did he do it? Hundreds of millions of Christians were
supposed to be taken up into Heaven during the Rapture. Instead, he
only got one person. It was a mockery of biblical prophecy. He
contemplated how he was going to punish the Devil, as the limo made
its way to Hell.

Soon,
bright clouds gave way to dark, ominous skies as the limo crossed the
barrier from Heaven to Hell. Winged demons perched on street lights,
which bowed over the crooked road. Jeers and cackles from the demons
followed the limo, as it approached the Gates of Hell.

After
a few more moments, Michael saw a large wrought iron gate, covered
with pointed spikes and signs warning trespassers to keep out. A
large, three headed dog was chained to the gate. The dog, easily
bigger than the limo, stood up at the approach of the automobile and
growled menacingly.