TAGGED: THE APOCALYPSE (3 page)

“I was outside the night of the eruptions and IT DID look like a star fell out of the sky. What was that?” Sven asked.

“I only saw it on the news myself. But then the Yellowstone caldera erupted. Supervolcano! Yellowstone erupting touched off a chain reaction down the Pacific Rim and around the world. Isn’t this what the scripture predicted?” Warren could feel the hippy’s interest. Maybe this wasn’t a waste of his time.

“Darkness
and a new ice age.” The hippy shook his head sadly, taking a long, thoughtful pull on his fragrant blunt. “Ok, wise man, since your God did this, any word on when the darkness will lift?”

“The scientists say it could be years. No one knows really. This is the first time in recorded history this has happened. Many believe that a giant dust cloud caused by a meteor strike in the
Yucatan Peninsula is what caused the extinction of the dinosaurs.”

“So you think this could be an extinction event for mankind?”

“No. I don’t think so, but only because man is smarter than the dinosaurs. We will find a way to survive; even if only a few of us.”

The hippy
took a long, thoughtful drag on his blunt, then blew it out of the side of his mouth. “You said they will seek death but won’t find it. So you think these things are dead?”

“Yes!”
Warren brightened. This hippy was sharp and he was listening. “They’re dead, but they can’t die. They’ve been sent here by God to punish those without the seal of God on their forehead. Sort of like hell on earth.”

“Why?”

“So they’ll repent of their wickedness.” Warren knew the moment it left his mouth that the hippy wasn’t going to like what he was hearing.

The hippy
took another long drag on his blunt, this time exhaling the smoke directly into Warren’s face in silent protest. “Let me get this straight. So, the infected don’t attack you? That’s what you’re telling me?” Warren could hear the disbelief in the man’s voice. He’d lost him.

Warren
Dubrowski glanced nervously at the receding crowd of flagellates moving slowly down the block and decided to wrap it up. “We have the seal of God on our foreheads. They can’t touch us.”

“I don’t see anything on your forehead
, dude, except sweat and some dirt.”

“The seal is visible only to God and his angels.”
Warren was clipped and brief. He began rocking his body and moving away from the hippy.

“
Well, now isn’t
that
convenient.” The hippy was beginning to turn red in the face. God was protecting him, Warren reminded himself, glancing again at the dog and the gun behind the thin screen. “So, the entire world is being bitten by these, these
things
with the teeth and the hair and the claws, but
none
of your group has been bitten?”

“No
,” Warren said. “Ok, well, some of the newer converts get bitten, but we think maybe they’re not really saved…” The hippy shook his head and laughed quietly. Warren took another half-step backward, about to depart and catch up to the crowd of flagellates, then said, “Jesus is the lamb of God come to take away the sins of the world. He came as a lamb to be slain, but he has returned as a lion.”

The hippy
hung his head and said something about a lamb Warren couldn’t hear under his breath.

“Do you mind if I pray with you before I go?”
Warren didn’t feel the change in the hippy’s tone, but he always asked if they wanted to pray together before leaving. He was surprised to find that the answer was almost always yes.

The hippy
nodded and silently bowed his head. You can never tell, Warren thought to himself as he clumsily reached up and put a hand on the tall hippy’s boney shoulder, “Lord, may you open the eyes of this blind man before me. As the scales fell from the eyes of Saul, the great persecutor of the early church, may the scales fall from this man’s eyes, and may he see your glorious truth. Lord, may your protection be upon this man from the wild beasts that roam the earth attacking those without your mark upon them…”

From the instant
Warren put his hand on the hippy’s shoulder it was as though there was an electric wire attached to him and a brilliant light filled his mind. Warren blinked his eyes wondering about the brilliant light, but the light was inside his mind. Inside Warren’s head a movie played. The hippy was now a clean cut young boy of Thirteen back in rural southwestern Virginia. The hippy was holding his lamb Buster, in his arms, and telling him that they were running away again. Then the hippy’s father was home, and the boy was putting Buster into the pen behind the house. The boy’s father was drinking and beating the boy, calling him a fag and telling him that he was ashamed that he was his son. The boy cowered and shrank away as his father waved his hands, “accidentally” brushing the boy’s cheek with the lit end of his cigar, burning him. Then came the day that the boy returned from school and his father was on the porch in the middle of the day drinking and smoking. There was the smell of meat on the grill and it smelled delicious. “You want something to eat?” Warren could smell the meat and feel the ache in the boy’s stomach, the vision was so real.

The boy’s
mouth was watering. It was his father’s favorite pastime to force the boy to sit at the dinner table while he cooked up a big juicy steak and a baked potato and ate it in front of him. Then he would send the boy to bed with no dinner. The boy nodded but didn’t say anything. For the past three nights, Warren knew that the boy had been forced to sit at the table while his father ate in front of him. As a result, the boy had a lot of gas in his stomach and was constantly burping and farting. His breath smelled like unwashed ass, and his teeth were getting loose. The boy didn’t know it, but he was starving to death and had developed scurvy and malnutrition. The boy was shocked when his father put a large plate of steaming roasted meat and bread in front of him.

“Eat.”

The boy tentatively took a bite, expecting at any second for the food to be snatched away or to be punched or slapped in the side of his head. But his father just smiled that strange smile and took another giant swig of Vodka mixed with V8 juice.

The boy
gobbled down the entire plate.

“More?” His
father smiled again while the boy had a fit of hiccups trying to keep down the food which he had eaten too quickly. It was a weird smile. The boy’s father smiled only with his teeth as his eyes watched the boy narrowly. His father filled his plate again, and watched the boy but didn’t have any himself.

The boy
ate as much as he could but he was full to bursting. He couldn’t finish the rest. His father saw him struggling to eat more. He said, “I’ll save the rest for you. Go out and play with Buster.”

Buster
his lamb always greeted him when he came home from school. Buster was his best friend. Buster was his only friend. His father smiled his cruel smile even more broadly. “Where’s Buster? Go out and play with Buster.”

Warren
could feel his terror as the boy jumped up and looked out of the kitchen window at Buster’s empty pen in the back yard. The boy had a sudden uncontrollable urge to throw up, but he needed the food, so he clapped his hand over his mouth to stop it. The boy’s father laughed and grabbed at him from behind, slapping him roughly in the face and punching him as the boy lost consciousness and the vision went dark. Warren removed his hand.

“Who are you?”
The hippy asked.

“
Warren Dubrowski. I was a software engineer for Google up in the valley. I got divorced. My wife took everything. She kept the kids away from me – wouldn’t let me see them. Accused me of just…just the most disgusting things, said I was stalking her, harassing her…I was in court for three years. It was awful.” Warren shook his head sadly, surprised at his own brutal honesty to this stranger, but this was the end and it was likely the man in front of him would be dead by morning. “I was planning to kill myself when this all happened.” He held out his hand to shake, “What’s your name, friend?”

The hippy
had a far away look in his eye. He said something unintelligible.

“What?”
The hippy began walking with long, loping strides toward the group of flagellates, “Mene, mene tekel parsin.”

“Wait, the
– earth -  has - been - weighed on the - - -scale and - found wanting.” Warren painfully translated the first sentence.

The hippy
absently unbuttoned his shirt and dropped it on the ground as he walked, revealing a tall, almost skeletal form, “Erblomunin brath grymithan, Erblomunin brat er,” he said.

“God is great. God is one.”
Warren Dubrowski interpreted more quickly. “This is incredible. I can understand angelic language. Hey, check it out! I prayed with this guy and he got the Spirit!” One of the tambourine girls looked back and smiled. Tiffany stopped and gave Warren her attention.

“Tan
blrmn a grbnm…”

“
Bend the knee to the Lord of Hosts, who was, who is, and who is to come. The kingdoms shall fall. The nations shall tremble at the mighty word of the Lord,” Warren Dubrowski translated more confidently with each word.

“The Spirit is upon him. He’s prophesying in the angelic language!”
Tiffany, a tall, thin Asian girl holding a tambourine, called to get the attention of the group. The procession stopped. The whips and the cries and the groans paused and waited for the hippy and Warren to catch up.

“
Ta Erblomunin cwq hkmno…” The hippy intoned in a trance.

“The Lord saw that every inclination of the thoughts of man was only evil all the time. God was grieved that he had made man,”
Warren Dubrowski translated loudly for all to hear, “I will wipe mankind, whom I have created, from the face of the earth!”

“Yes! Yes that’s right! Amen! Praise the Lord!”
Tiffany cried, when she heard the translation.

“Do you think it’s real? Do they know each other?”
John, a dumpy middle-aged male follower of the flagellates, asked skeptically from the tail of the procession.

“Of course it’s real.”
Doug, one of the flagellates, insisted. He was stripped to the waist. His back bore many welts from the days thrashing. “Bring him to the front. Hear the Word of the Lord.”

Tiffany
and Warren proudly sheparded Sven down to the front of the procession before the flagellates and the cross bearer.  “I’m Tiffany.” The thin girl held out her hand to the hippy, “What’s your name?” But the hippy’s eyes were far away. “You should cut your hair. It makes you look a little like..them.”

“
Erblomunin ewq piklw e mqzxpl…” the hippy walked in front now and the cross bearer and flagellates fell in behind. Warren Dubrowski and Tiffany stood on his right and left, their eyes bright with excitement.

“God is love. He calls all people to repent and believe on the Lord Jesus Christ,” Tiffany translated.

“No,” Warren said, trying to hide his irritation, “He said something about a furnace…the Day of the Lord is coming and is now here. That day will burn like a furnace. All the arrogant and every evildoer will be stubble and that Day shall set them on fire. Not a single root or branch will be left to those who practice evil on the earth.”

“How do you know what he said?” Tiffany frowned.

“gbp cxq iut rbwqaz…”

“But for you who revere my name, the
sun, or rather Son of righteousness, will rise with healing in his wings. The righteous shall go out and leap like calves released from the stall after a long and bitter winter. You shall trample the wicked. They shall be ashes beneath the soles of your feet,” Warren translated.

“Praise the Lord!”

“Yes! Tell it brother!”

There were sc
reams from ahead in the street. People began running and there was the sound of doors slamming, an engine revving and then a gunshot. The procession of flagellates stopped.

The gunshot snapped
the hippy out of his trance, and he stopped. “Where am I?”

“Blessed be the name of the Lord,” Tiffany translated.

“That was English,” Warren said.

“I know…” Tiffany glared at
Warren.

“Who are you?” Sven asked.

“Warren Dubrowski. I prayed with you at your house. Don’t you remember?”

“No.”

“Tiffany.” Tiffany smiled and offered her hand again. “That was awesome.”

“What’s your name
, brother?” Warren asked, offering his hand again.

“Sven.”

“You were prophesying, Sven. The spirit of the Lord was upon you.” Warren smiled, and looked into Sven’s eyes for comprehension but saw only confusion.

“What? Where am I?”
Sven lifted his nose, catching a whiff of their stench even before he saw them. He stopped.

“The infected. Run!”

A few of the flagellant followers began to scatter, especially the new ones in the rear. The flagellates looked around nervously. Through the gloom, Warren could see dark shapes moving down the middle and sides of the street. They looked like large cats. They were lithe and lean. This was a daily occurrence. They terrified him every time. Warren put a hand on Sven’s shoulder. He looked to be calculating whether he could run back to his house before they caught up to him, back to the safety of his guns. “You must stay here with us. Don’t run.”