Apocalypse Burning (31 page)

“I know, Taryn. That’s ‘cause Momma don’t know yet.” Phyllis looked from her daughters back to Delroy. “I been watchin’ TV, Chaplain. Been readin’ my Bible. But I got no head for what I’m seein’. I just cain’t understand ever’thin’ what’s happened. I talked to my friends, an’ I talked to all them people I could at the hospital. Ain’t nobody got no answers that I can give my chir’ren about what’s happened to their baby brother.” Her voice broke for a moment. “An’ I cain’t even guarantee them that they ain’t gonna be next.”

“No more children will disappear,” Delroy said.

Phyllis searched his face. “Do you know what’s happenin’?”

Delroy hesitated for a moment, knowing he was hovering dangerously close to the edge of something that could swallow him up. He didn’t want to get involved with the woman or her children or their pain. All of them were more than he could handle, and he knew that. A man always had to know his limitations. Delroy did. He was already way in over his head. He just wanted to go back to the safety of USS
Wasp.

And even as he thought that, he knew that if his daddy could know his heart and mind in this church right now, Josiah Harte would be ashamed.

“Aye, ma’am,” Delroy said. “I know what’s happening.”

“Then I need to know,” Phyllis pleaded. “I gots to tell my chir’ren so they understand. I don’t want them afraid no mo’. I didn’t work this hard tryin’ to bring them up to be God-fearin’ young men an’ women to have them lost.”

Delroy shook his head. “Ma’am, I really don’t think I’m the one to answer your questions. Don’t you have another pastor?”

“Pastor Leonard was one of them what disappeared,” Dominic said. “He taught a Bible study group at the Salvation Army an’ coached some roundball.”

“There’s women I talk to in my prayer group,” Phyllis said. “They’s tellin’ me that despite ever’thin’ we done seen, we ain’t seen bad yet. But it’s comin’.”

Delroy took in a deep breath and let it out. “Ma’am, I’m weak. I should be at my post on my ship right now. I should be helping young men prepare for battle. I’m not. I let my own self-interest take me away from them.” He shook his head regretfully. “I’m just not the man to do what you’re asking.”

Phyllis’s face turned cold. “Mister, all I’m askin’ you to do is help me explain to my chir’ren what we needs to do. Them ladies in my prayer group, they says the end of the world is upon us, that we missed bein’ called up to be with Jesus because we ain’t where we ought to be in our hearts, an’ that the devil hisself is set loose right in the middle of us like a fox in a henhouse. I ain’t askin’ for you to do it for me. I’m just askin’ for some guidance. That’s all. Just help me understand things I cain’t understand on my own.”

The woman’s words stung Delroy like a whip.

“You ain’t gotta dirty your hands or even break a sweat,” Phyllis said. “I just needs to know what’s comin’ so I can see my chir’ren get off to heaven like they deserve.” She stood with her head held high and tears sparkling on her ebony face. “But if you ain’t man enough to help us out, I best not waste any more time on you.” She took her girls’ hands as she stood and started toward the door.

Delroy watched her. He remembered when he was five years old and he asked his daddy what it was like to be a preacher.

“Well, now, little man,” Josiah had said, reaching down to take his son into his arms, “bein’ a preachin’ man is mighty hard work. You gotta believe so hard that you not only believe enough for yourownself, but you also believe enough for them folks what cain’t believe enough for themselves for a time.”

“How do you do that, Daddy?”

“Well, Son, sometimes you scare the devil right out of ‘em.”

“Like when you tell ‘em what hell is like an’ how their family’s going to miss ‘em in heaven?”

“Yes, sir, that’s one way.”

“You’re real good at that, Daddy. Sometimes you scare me.”

“Well, I’m sorry for that. I truly am.”

“That’s okay, Daddy. I don’t ever have nightmares like them movies make me have. Sometimes I like it when you scare me about God and stuff.”

“Well, now, Son, I think sometimes we all do. Reminds us that makin’ that choice to live for God is a mighty important thing. Important enough that even that ol’ devil has to sit up an’ take notice of us. But do you know what I mostly do?”

“What, Daddy?”

“I look at them people an’ I realize how scared they are about what’s comin’. Then I take ‘em by the hand an’ I lead ‘em in the path of the Lord.”

“Ain’t that hard, Daddy?”

“Only when they’s bein’ muleheaded an’ ain’t listenin’ any too good. But when you got a man or a woman—or a youngster like yourownself—what’s wantin’ to know what the Lord has said about somethin’, why all I have to do is open the Bible an’ give ‘em God’s Word. Sometimes I get surprised at how strong an’ rested all that hard work makes me.”

The woman had almost reached the door when Delroy called out to her. “Phyllis.”

She went stiff-backed for a moment; she halted but didn’t turn around.

“Phyllis, I’m sorry.” Delroy stayed where he was, knowing he couldn’t go after her. The decision to come back had to be hers. “My daddy was Josiah Harte. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard of him, but he used to preach right here at this church. He preached long and hard to the folks that lived around here. I never saw him a day in his life when he didn’t know how to handle his relationship with God.”

The boy and the two girls turned to look at Delroy, but their mother held her ground.

“My daddy was a good man,” Delroy said. “A great preacher. He had a way with words that could ignite a congregation, scare them, and bring them home to Jesus in droves.” He paused. “But I’m not my daddy. I never have been. But if I let you walk out of this church—my daddy’s church—without at least trying to help you, I know I don’t deserve to be my daddy’s son. And, ma’am, that’s something that I just can’t do.”

Dominic pulled on his mother’s arm. “Momma, come on. Let’s listen to what he has to say.”

“I apologize, ma’am,” Delroy said. “I truly do. I’ve been lost myself for a long time. I’m still trying to find my way back to a lot of things I guess I took for granted.”

Slowly, Phyllis turned around. “It’s rare to meet an honest man, Chaplain. An’ rarer still to meet one what admits his failin’s. But I’ll tell you somethin’: all of us that got left behind, I figure we’re all just a little lost. Maybe it’ll take all of us together to find our way.”

A smile was on Delroy’s lips before he knew it, and lightness dawned in his heart. “Aye, ma’am. I expect you’re right.”

“I got to warn you, Chaplain, I got a powerful lot of questions.” Phyllis brought her children back up to the front of the church.

“Aye, ma’am.” Delroy straightened the pew she’d sat in, then got a chair for himself. He started to talk then, to outline the overall sevenyear period that followed the Rapture. As he talked and discussed God’s Word and God’s plan, he discovered that talking about those things seemed the most natural thing in the world to do.

As he spoke, another young couple appeared outside the church door. They held hands and looked frightened.

Delroy stopped. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“We was just wonderin’,” the young woman said, “if the church was open. We know it’s only Thursday, an’ ain’t no notice been hung, but if the church was open, we wondered if we might come in an’ talk.” She shook her head. “We’ve spent days worryin’ an’ wonderin’ about what’s gonna happen to us. We just want to know what to do.”

Delroy hesitated, uncertain how much responsibility he wanted to take on.

“You come right on ahead, chile,” Phyllis said. “Church is open today.”

10

United States 75th Army Rangers Temporary Post
Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 2056 Hours

“—the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” Corporal Joseph Baker said as he reached for the young soldier’s face, then pinched his nose and covered his mouth. They were standing in the water tank Baker used to perform baptisms.

Goose stood at the back of the makeshift church. He leaned a hip against the line of sandbags that had partially converted the church area into a bunker against artillery attacks and tried to find a position that provided relief for his aching knee.

Rain continued to pound the street and the ground. Rivulets of water threaded through the metal chairs and crates and wooden boxes that had been set up to seat the attendees. The generator and the lights had been scavenged from bombed-out buildings in the city.

The church never shut down. Services were held all day and all night, twenty-four hours around the clock. When Baker couldn’t be there because of posting or sleep, other men took his place. Some of them were chaplains, but not all of them. Many had been deacons and youth ministers and Sunday school teachers back home. Some still were. Others had never had much to do with church at all until the last few days. Somehow all those men had been called into service at Baker’s church.

The church had begun small. Now it took up nearly six times the room it originally had. Somehow, though, the church continued to find the room and the means to grow.

One of the nearby buildings had been a restaurant. When the SCUDs fell, the owners had left. Soldiers had come forward and told Baker they wanted to help, and they’d seen to the refurbishing of the restaurant kitchens. Soup and sandwiches were served constantly. No one came to Baker’s church and went away hungry. Not physically and not spiritually.

And that was what everyone had taken to calling the worship place under the pieced-together, salvaged tent material: Baker’s Church.

Goose had mixed feelings about the church. When he was there, he somehow felt closer to Chris, more connected. It felt as if his son were no more than a baseball throw away, ready for Goose to catch up to him at any moment. But he also felt uneasy because being there created friction between Remington and himself. The captain despised the church and Baker, thinking that they created weakness or a zealot’s belief in the men he commanded and relied upon. As a compromise, Goose attended the church, but he let his postings and other responsibilities keep him away probably more than they should have.

The congregation gathered here came from U.S. Army Rangers and the Marine Corps, from the general populace of the city, from the U.N. Peacekeeping teams, and even—surprisingly—from the Turkish army, many of whom were not Christians. At least, they hadn’t been Christians before the war had broken out.

Every time Baker delivered a sermon, he led people to Jesus. Goose had witnessed that call and those who answered at least a halfdozen times. It was always the same. It had been that way tonight after they had finished their postings. Besides the man currently in the water tank, seventeen more stood waiting their turn.

The soldier in the tank held his arms crossed over his chest while Baker talked quietly to him for a moment. The soldier nodded. He wore his BDUs, which were already soaked from the rain that had lasted more than twelve straight hours. His boots and socks stood in front of the tank.

A six-piece band that played mostly in tune stood nearby on empty ammo crates with their instruments in their hands. When Baker finished the latest round of baptisms, they were going back to music to end the evening service.

With deceptive ease, Baker lowered the soldier into the water. The lights shining on the stage area reflected from the water. Two camcorders from media people played over the scene. Apparently their news directors never tired of the footage.

After a brief moment, Baker brought the soldier back up. Goose saw the smile spread across the soldier’s face as tears mixed with the water that ran from his hair down his features. He turned to Baker and hugged him fiercely.

Baker hugged the soldier back, talked to him briefly again, and helped him from the water tank as he would help a child.

The congregation clapped and called out thanks and praise to God and Jesus Christ.

“That’s a moving ceremony,” a feminine voice said at Goose’s side.

Glancing over his shoulder, Goose spotted Danielle Vinchenzo standing halfway in the evening’s shadows. She looked tired and her hair drooped from the moisture in the air.

“Miss Vinchenzo,” Goose greeted.

“You’re a hard man to catch, First Sergeant.”

“I didn’t know you were looking, ma’am.” During the last few hours, Goose had checked through the Rangers to find out what kind of shape his men were in. Knowing Remington would want to put a mission together soon kept Goose active.

Danielle crossed her arms and watched the baptisms as Baker prayed for each individual. “Does he ever sleep?”

“Five hours out of every twenty-four,” Goose replied. “Captain Remington’s orders. But he doesn’t always sleep all five in one shot.”

“How does he do it? I’m dead on my feet and I’m getting seven or eight, with a few catnaps crammed in there for good measure when I can make it happen.”

Goose shook his head. “You’d have to ask Corporal Baker.”

Danielle frowned. “I did. He told me that God was giving him strength.”

“Then I suppose that’s what it must be.”

After a moment watching the baptisms, Danielle said, “You were there when the retreat from the Turkish-Syrian border took place.”