A Abba's Apocalypse (23 page)

Read A Abba's Apocalypse Online

Authors: Charles E. Butler

exhaustion. I just hope no LD heard all the noise I made.

              After several minutes of controlled panting, I gain enough strength to carry on. I lean over and look up the alleyway. I see someone walking this way! My mind goes into a frantic state, but I calm it with the realization that I still have some time to hide. The person is still at the other end of the alley. I look around to find a hiding spot, but find only that I have another problem. I can’t locate any spot between me and the crater. I see a good spot across the alleyway entrance, but I’ll have to risk detection crossing over. I notice a perfect place, but it requires me to go into the alley about 15 feet or so. There is a gap in a fence just big enough for me to climb through; and the entrance can only be seen from my direction. I again lean slightly over to see if the approaching figure is looking this way. It is! I toss all these options “out the window,” and I decide again to go to “Plan B.”

              I remove my rucksack and open it. My hand quickly feels through the supplies looking for the roll of baling wire. I locate it and silently thank Gary for this present he gave me before I left. Next, I rip open one of the supply bags and pull out a squeeze bottle containing the bleach. Quickly, I run to the mouth of the crater and stop. I look to my left and then my right to find two anchor spots for the wire. I move to my left and wrap this end of the wire around the base of fallen tree trunk. I run backwards across the street while unrolling the wire. My internal ticking clock warns me where the approaching being should be by now; and I have to hurry. The rational part of me says, “Be steady and calm.” I make it to the other side of the street and find the fence post. I swirl the wire several times around it making sure to keep it about a foot high off the ground. I twist the wire and dump the excess spool behind the post. The next step will require timing and courage. I need to bait my trap. I run back to the middle of the street and stand between the wire and the edge of the crater. I double check my internal clock and it says the being should be about ready to exit the alley. I take a deep breath then try to

exhale out all the tension. I firmly grasp the tiny bottle of

bleach in my right hand and conceal it. I freeze and stare at the being now staring at me!

              He steps rapidly out of the alley onto the street, and then stops and stares directly into my eyes. I can tell immediately the man twenty feet from me is definitely a LD. I don’t feel that revolting creepy presence a demonic infestation would cause me, but my spirit is overwhelmed with the pathetic loneliness it radiates. It’s hard to spot, but I think I see his brand on his hand. He seems to be confused. He begins tilting his head as his penetrating eyes slowly scan me. I remain standing perfectly still as I gaze in his black empty eyes. It’s as if I’m standing all alone in a large cold cave a mile underground with absolutely no light. He seems confused. Maybe he’s wondering why I don’t try and run. He asks me, “Who are you?” Now I am confused. I know he’s close enough to sense my spirit. And, I know he can see I don’t bear the brand. Why would he care who I am? Again, he asks me, “Who are you?” I simply say, “Joey.” All of a sudden I understand what’s happening.

              I recognize the LD. “Top, is that you?” I see in his eyes something I’ve never seen in a LD before-remorse! I swear he’d cry if he was capable. Being an LD has changed his appearance. His face structure is much longer than I remember. I guess the lack of hope over time does that to a LD. Top was my “First Sergeant” in the U.S. Army years ago.  Everyone called him Top because he was the highest ranking sergeant in my company. We were real close. He was the kind of guy I wanted defending my back in battle. He was tough, but always kind. “Ahhh Top, why did you do it?” All at once,  my soul sinks and my heart breaks. I stand here looking at this loyal soldier and comrade, and I do what he can’t. I cry for him. Fear fills his face caused by being in my presence. My spirit reminds his where it will be forever in the future. For, both of us know his soul is eternally damned!

              I have a thousand questions to ask him, but I realize

this thing is not Top anymore. Anger and resentment now

challenges the fear in his face. I shake my head in disbelief while my pitiful love dies for him. This LD is aware of my warrior skills and senses a possible trap. He becomes violent and begins pacing left then right, but he does not advance. This tells me the wire is invisible to him. I know I got to get him to attack me before he figures out my trap. I tell him, “I’m a Christian.” His restraining chain of reason breaks and releases the beast inside him. He charges me as I squeeze a fifteen foot stream of bleach directly into his eyes blinding him. His anger and pain fuels his progression, as his blind fury searches me out. I squat as far down as I can while watching this LD trip over the wire. I grab the shoulders of his approaching airborne body and roll backwards. I push my legs up-into his thighs, and then flip him towards the crater. He snatches my shirt at the last possible second, pulling me along. His body disappears in the hole, except for the arm still holding onto me. He profanely roars his threats as I listen to him claw at the wall to get out. His weight, strength, and determination strangle my body with my own shirt. I can feel the movement of his body swinging, as it saws my shirt into me. He terrifyingly tugs at me, trying to drag me down. I agonizingly think, “He just will not tire.” The only thing keeping me from following him in is the perfect balance between the dead weight of my lying position, which is counteracting the gravity of his swinging body. I am slowly being dragged in an inch at a time though. I want to try and pry his hand loose, but my finger tips are preoccupied to scratching the asphalt, slowing my progression towards the hole. If I move, I’ll probably slide right in. If he continues to hold on, I’ll slide right in. I lay trapped in his grasp on my back!

              I hear the flame of hope in this beautiful song approaching. Flicker’s voice makes the LD super violent. The LD increases his aggression as my blue buddy lands on my chest. He stares at my horrified face while calmly tilting his little blue head. It’s like he’s saying, “Relax, have faith.” I start

sliding faster, with my head now hanging over the crater’s edge. Flicker jumps onto the LDs hand and pecks it. His little head moves so fast that it turns invisible. It takes just several seconds for the LD to let go; before Flicker chops it off. I slide quickly away from the hole as the LDs body makes a sickening sound. I take a deep breath and smile at my lovely little friend. Flicker calmly struts right up to my chin while staring at me. It’s like he’s telling me, “You’re welcome.” Then, he pecks me right between the eyes! Before I have time to say, “Ouch,” he flies off. I think, “Thank you too, buddy!”

              I am quickly reminded about my current objective. I hear the scream again of a lady off in the distance. I push myself up, and then run to grab my rucksack. I retrieve my wire and store it. After my chores, I walk to the edge of the crater carefully listening for any activity. I look down and find what made the gut wrenching sound. Top’s body lies on its back with his head tucked under it. I’m glad he died this way. I would hate to carry the picture of his horror-struck face as he saw the gates of Hell opening in his final few seconds of life. As I turn away, I ask God to have mercy on his soul. I start walking and reverently whisper, “You shouldn’t have Top.”

              I reach the alleyway and lean my head past the corner fence to check inside alley. This time it’s clear. I try and hurry in my travel to make up for lost time. I begin marching at a “double time” pace. I notice the asphalt surface is in fairly good condition compared to everything around it. There are just a few areas with small pits. The houses and buildings to my right are ninety percent demolished, but everything from the alleyway towards my left looks like little has happened to them. As I proceed I think that the meteor shower must have poured down in an east to west direction. I think, “This is odd.” I was under the impression meteors came straight down. This fact gives me hope that there may be pockets of Irreverent unaffected by the devastation. 

              Entering the next alley I hear a robin singing somewhere. This is a rare treat ordered right off the endanger

spices menu. Its song sounds sad and lonely. The little fellow seems to be calling to its friends, hoping it will receive a return call. He stops momentarily, and then sings again in a new direction. The only response he’ll get is his echo coming from this lifeless cavity. I pity the poor fellow. I know he walks the rope connecting sheer determination to insanity. But, he’s just a bird. What the heck do they know anyway?

              I make it three blocks without incident, but I run out of alleyway transportation. I see a manmade barricade half way up the next alley. Two rusted vehicles end to end sit at its foundation. It’s fortified with wooden planks, ruble, and tires. I can’t tell who created it, but I figure they don’t want anyone to come through this alley. It looks as if it was made post meteor storm, because the building material isn’t shot through with holes like Swiss cheese. I make a mental note as I turn right, and then proceed via the preferred mode of transportation of my enemy-the street.

              I hustle to the corner and hide behind a utility pole. The three, or so, blocks east of here are totally flattened. I think to myself this is how Hiroshima must have looked. The only things taller than two feet are several reinforced concrete monuments marking this graveyard of destruction. The only good from it is the unobstructed view. Suddenly, I hear the reverberating scream of a lady again. I turn north along the street and rapidly head towards it.

              I make it to the area it came from. All I find are mounds of charred debris. I cautiously and reluctantly climb the highest pile for a better view. I know I stand more exposed, but it’s a risk I feel I have to take. The last scream sounded like it may be her last scream. Ironically, I pray she will make one more cry for help so I can locate her. I slowly spin around on the summit trying to find any evidence of where she might be. I grow more fearful every second worrying I’ll be detected. I say to myself, “Come on, come on.” Out of the dead calm comes the sound I’ve been waiting for. I hear a loud moaning about three or four stacks northwest of here.

              I arrive at the approximate location and search the debris in this area. I determine; if she is here, she is somewhere under it. I bounce my stare in a pattern of observation trying to identify anything unusual in that particular sector saying she might be here. But, I just don’t see anything that could help. I cry inwardly, “God, help me find her.” My apprehensive heart urgently reminds my mind of a story that might help me. It was about a boy who lost his dear departed grandfather’s watch somewhere in a barn. During his frantic search to find it he becomes very tired and falls asleep on a stack of hay. In his dream his dear departed grandpa tells him, “I want you to do something very special for me. Promise me when you wake up, you’ll lay still for five minutes.” The boy wakes up and remembers his promise. He lays still and stares at the barn ceiling. Soon, he hears a tick, tick, tick. He follows the sound till, behold, he finds grandpa’s watch. This is what I’ll do.

              I remove my rucksack and lay uncomfortably on top this pile. I attempt to relax with several slow deep breaths, and then exhales. Silently, I lay here and listen. I begin hearing erratic breathing coming from what seems the bottom of this mound. I very lowly follow the sound and find an opening between the debris. I place my ear to the darkness below and identify the source of the breathing. I silently shout to myself, “Thank you Lord!” I grab my flashlight while whispering into the dark void, “Is anybody there?” I hear two deep breaths, and then, “Help me, please help me!” I think she has limited air causing her to react in such manner. I shine my light in the small crevasse and see her face five feet from mine. Her pretty big eyes react to my bright light by squinting. She looks like a teenager. I see that her head is free of the brand, as I alert her I too am Irreverent. I start lifting and sliding the wood and concrete debris as quickly and as quietly as I can. I feverishly work to remove her while hearing her repeat, “Thank you!” I whisper to back, “Please be quiet. I promise I’ll get you out soon.” She becomes quiet and still in her dark prison

patiently waiting for her rescue.

              I soon realize moving the debris will take much longer than I hoped. Much of it is compounded by the weight of overlapping debris. “My name is Joey. What’s your name honey?” She shyly states, “Tiffany.” I check the time and see it is after noon. I continue methodically moving piece by piece every piece I can. I am careful not to release any debris into her captive cavity. As I grow frustrated in my determination, I ask Tiffany if she might tell me how she got down there. I figure keeping her mouth busy will take her mind off her situation, while keeping her spirits high.

              “The explosion destroyed our house and burnt our supplies.” I discern from the word “our” there is another Irreverent someplace out here. “Two days ago I slid down this hole, and the debris fell over it sealing me in here.” I ask Tiffany what possessed her to climb around on this stuff to begin with. She explains as I continue digging through the ruble, “Daddy and I were living in our basement when we heard the explosions. I was reading and studying like always. Daddy was listening to the shortwave radio, like he did every day.” I ask, “How long did you live in the basement?” She replies, “About three and a half years. Daddy knew the day would come we’d have to live there, so he fixed it up with everything we’d need years before. You see, my daddy was a doctor and a real smart man.” I hear Tiffany begin to cry. Talking about him must be the reason. I rationalize something bad has happened to him. I got to figure out a way to make her stop crying before a passing LD hears it. The hole is acting like a megaphone amplifying her sounds. Her hunger yells to me a possible solution to this current dilemma. I ask, “Hey, are you hungry?” Her sobbing slowly stops as I shine my light to the side of her cave, and then drop down a protein bar. I continue to shine the light and watch as she shoves the entire bar in her mouth. Not only does the food change her perspective, but it corks her loud uncontrollable crying.

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