Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (66 page)

More lightning came, and the men began to beat a hasty retreat to the house through a curtain of low flying ash. When they were near the open garage, a pinging and thumping sound filled the air. At first, John thought it was the rain, but then he saw finger sized holes appear in the undisturbed ash at his feet. A hailstone hit his shoulder and he sprinted the remaining distance to the garage.

From within the garage, John stooped and picked up a hail stone that skidded in on the hard smooth concrete floor. It was ice, but with a grayish, sparkly tint to it. It looked like a little chunk of quartz, but it was little more than a simple dirty hail stone. He handed it to Pete and asked, “Have you ever see anything like this?”

Pete shook his head and flinched as another lightning bolt struck the ground nearby. The strike was less than a mile from the house, and it rose instantly into the sky to connect with whatever weather pattern was struggling for dominance in the sky above them. “It must have tiny flakes of quartz in it from the upper atmosphere. What do you think it means?” asked Pete.

“I don’t know, but there’s a good chance it’s going to be a very cold winter, and probably even a cold summer,” said John. “I remember reading that volcanic ash reflects sunlight . . . enough to change global temperatures.”

“Sure, it’s not like we have enough trouble on our hands already,” replied Pete.

John nodded and watched as a curtain of crystalline ice pellets began to fall to the earth. “Maybe this weather pattern, the one that’s making all this noise, will pull some of the ash out of the sky,” said John.

Pete shrugged. “Maybe. It’s just a lot of destruction to take in. I mean, wasn’t it enough to cover everything in ash, and now to put us in a nuclear winter to boot?” said Pete. He turned to look at John and said, “What do you think’s going on?”

“What do you mean . . . this?” asked John, gesturing with his head to the weather outside.

“No. All of it. What’s going on with the disaster?”

Pete’s question was clearly one of significance for him, so John ignored his first impulse to joke about it. His friend was obviously troubled by something more than just the disaster. Though the disaster was significant in its own right, John realized that Pete was having a hard time coming to terms with something more significant, and that he was having a hard time spitting it out. “I wonder the same thing,” said John, after a comfortable pause.

“John, how’d you know the storm was coming?” asked Pete, as he studied John closely. “For that matter, how’d you know the disaster was coming? I mean . . . really know? After your email I searched everywhere for something that would give me a clue about what you were talking about . . . about the eruption. I wanted to find something, anything about your warning. I found nothing . . . well, not nothing, there were a few things, but it was mostly conspiracy theory stuff. But you . . . you were certain about it. You knew it was coming. I could tell in your email, and in your voice when we talked on the phone,” said Pete. He bent down to pick up another hail stone that managed to slide across the floor and come to rest at his feet.

John considered Pete’s words. As he considered a response, he allowed the sound of the hail stones hitting the vehicles, roof, and the other exposed surfaces around them, to distract him. The sounds of the falling hail blended together to create a rapidly beating staccato of ticks and pops that sounded something like popping corn. John watched, with interest, as the hailstones passed through the crepe myrtle across the driveway. They freed the remaining ash from the leaves, and sent little gray puffs of it into the air to join the swirling winds. Soon, the large flowering shrubs would be entirely free of their ashen blanket. John knew it wouldn’t be long before the rain would come, and he really wanted to see it. Actually, he needed to see it wash the ash away. For the moment, the hail was the perfect backdrop for their private conversation, but they stood together silently.

John noticed that the kid’s had stuffed their dirty work clothes into a white garbage bag. The loaded bag was apparently waiting for John and Pete to do the same with their ash coated clothing. Jenna had also left two large beach towels sitting on the nearby shelf. He was impressed with Jenna’s commitment to keep the house ash free, but he didn’t think it would be a problem much longer. John returned to Pete’s question, though he was still unsure about how to answer him.

Pete must have sensed John’s hesitation, because he said after the long, silent pause, “Look, I understand if you don’t want to talk about it . . .”

“No, it’s not that,” said John, with an interrupting reply. “I was just thinking about how to answer you. You having a visit from Eli changed things for me. I thought I was the only one caught up in this . . . the spiritual side of the disaster,” finished John.

“Is that what this is,” asked Pete, “spiritual? Because the disaster sure seems real enough to me.”

John chuckled at Pete’s logic and smiled. He appreciated his friend’s levity, especially when he, himself, considered using it just moments ago. John knew, from experience, that humor had a way of pushing shadows from the mind. “The disaster is very real,” said John. “I’ve seen the destruction from the eruption zone, all the way here. I’ve seen the crater itself, it’s a huge open pit of magma more than fifty miles across,” finished John.

“How could you have seen it?” asked Pete.

“Eli. He took me to see it,” answered John.

It was Pete’s turn to quietly consider what John just said. It was as if the two men were playing chess with their words, each carefully and silently considering their every word as if moving a game piece on a board, neither wanting to harm their opponent. They silently watched the storm from the garage, watching the hail fall, and the lightning flash around them. After one close and particularly violent crash of thunder, Jenna stuck her head into the garage and asked, “I saw you two run in. Do you need more time?”

John nodded and said, “Can you give us a couple more minutes, Babe?”

“Sure thing. Take your time,” said Jenna, as she pulled the door closed and disappeared back into the kitchen.

As John predicted, heavy rain replaced the hail. It fell in torrential sheets that reduced visibility to little more than ten feet. An occasional sharp gust of wind would spray water into the garage, but John welcomed the moist assault on his face. It was better than the ash, familiar, and much more acceptable to him than dryness. John had seen heavy downpours like this before, while driving. Even his windshield wipers, at their highest setting, were unable to handle the volume of falling water. On occasion, he was forced to pull over and wait for the storm to pass before he continued driving. This downpour was even heavier. It was as if a giant fire hose had been turned on and aimed directly at John’s house.

The rain quickly mixed with the ash to produce a slurry of gray mud on the ground. As the ash was carried away by the rainwater, John was able to see the surface of his driveway for the first time in about a week. He was grateful his house was more than twelve inches above grade, or that he didn’t live near an active creek or stream.

The gray mud flowed through many different rivulets as it glided past. To John, it resembled ceramic slip, especially when it collected and pooled in low areas along the side of John’s driveway. He was curious to see more, but not willing to leave the cover of the garage. “The cleansing properties of rain,” said John.

Pete asked, “What?” as he turned to face John. He was also transfixed by the activity of the storm, and at the sight of color that began to emerge from the formerly dominate gray pallet of ash that had been his life as of late. “I didn’t hear what you said.”

“It was nothing,” said John. “I was just waxing poetic. What were we talking about?”

“Eli,” said Pete. “You said he took you to see the destruction.”

“Yeah, but it didn’t start with that. Things have changed a lot for me since that vision,” said Pete. “In fact, everything I thought I knew about heaven and hell, about the spirit world, about life on this side, and the other . . . everything has changed for me.”

“Well, until just the other day I never believed in heavenly messengers either,” said Pete. “What exactly is going on, John?”

“I don’t know. I have no idea. All I know is that things have changed on both sides. I believe the disaster was meant to happen, that it was meant to turn back the clock.”

“Do you really think so?” said Pete.

“Well, not literally of course, but certainly by many other accounts. Maybe it was meant to relieve us of our worldly distractions . . . just enough so that we would turn our hearts back to God. Perhaps rediscover our humanity, you know, rediscover a way of life that values a person’s character above their possessions,” said John.

“But how does all the spirit stuff come into play?”

“Again, I am only speculating, but if you believe in God, if you believe there’s a higher order to life than what you see, well, is it really that hard to believe that God could get tired of us perverting everything He’s given us?” asked John. “Think about it, we’ve reached a level of economic, political and social corruption that’s unmatched in our history. America many not be executing Christians in the coliseum, but we’ve completely turned our backs to God. We no longer acknowledge Him as the source of our inspiration, our success, or our prosperity. We rely on science, and take credit for everything we do. We worship ourselves . . . our own thoughts and abilities.”

“I never knew you to be so religious,” said Pete, in a sincere and contemplative tone.

“I’m not talking religion, Pete, I’m talking existence. I’m talking about my being here at this particular place and time. I’m not saying I’m beyond religion, only that what I’ve seen and learned has served as the basis for many different religions around the world, so I know I’m not the first to travel to the other side.” John paused and turned to face
Pete. “The things I’ve experienced are absolutely unbelievable, Pete, but I’m so very glad Eli spoke to you. I really needed someone to talk to about this,” finished John.

“You haven’t talked to Jenna?” asked Pete, surprised.

John shook his head and said, “No, she’s not comfortable with such talk. In fact, few people are. Marissa had an interesting experience, but I’ve told her very little about my own. Besides, I barely know her.” John turned back to watch the rain. It had slackened a little, but lightning still raged around them and sent an occasional bright flash of light into the garage. Thunder filled their ears with booms and distant rumbling, but for the first time in days, the air smelled clean and alive again. John breathed in deeply, and sighed.

“So what’s next,” asked Pete.

“I’ve recorded all my spiritual activity, so you can read about it if you want. It would be better than standing out here in the garage and talking about it,” said John.

“Yes,” said Pete, “I would like to read about it, but only if you’re OK with it. And if it’s all right if I can talk to Bonnie about it.”

John looked at Pete and said, “I’ll never stand between you and Bonnie, but I have a feeling that, after you read my journal, you won’t say much about it to her either.”

“Is it that crazy?” asked Pete, with a grin.

“Brother, you have no idea,” said John, as he clapped Pete on the shoulder. “Let’s go in. I’ll slip you my journal after the kids are tucked away.”

“That works for me,” said Pete, as he helped John close the garage door.

A
fter a hearty meal of beef stew and cornbread, followed by Marissa’s sopapillas with honey, the group split into three naturally occurring sub-groups. The adults congregated in the family room, the teenagers, the boys at least, went to Adam’s room, and the little kids, with Abby as their lead, moved off to the media room to watch a movie.

The sound of falling rain could be heard throughout the house, but it was falling much more normally than before, as if the weather pattern offered them little more than a typical seasonal shower. Thankfully, the thunder and lightning also moved on. It didn’t scare the adults, or the big kids, but it did manage to terrify the little ones.

Other than the occasional gust of wind, John knew the worst of the weather was behind them. Whenever a gust of wind blew against the house, it rattled the three sets of wind chimes hanging under the back patio eve. John could tell, with the sound of the chimes alone, how hard the wind was blowing, and from which direction it came. It wasn’t a weather station, but he found it to be a very useful system.

John heard footsteps and turned to see Abby enter the kitchen. He watched her walk toward the pantry, graceful and light, like a ballerina. She caught him staring at her, smiled, and then playfully stuck her tongue out at him. John smiled back and did the same. She left the kitchen carrying a bag of goldfish crackers, which he figured she would use to entertain the little ones during their movie.

John was proud of Abby. After hearing about Marissa’s abuse, she seemed to gravitate to her. At first, John thought Abby was reaching
out in compassion and sympathy for Marissa, but he saw that Marissa treated Abby like a daughter she never had. Their friendship continued to grow, and John saw the love they held for each other grow every passing day. He was glad Abby had a chance to connect with Marissa before Bonnie arrived. Now she had three women to connect with.