A Abba's Apocalypse (30 page)

Chapter 12: Star of the Morning

              I finish leading the pack up the ladder and move to an observation position near the dark ledge. I take a couple protein bars from my sack and offer one to Paul for breakfast. We share the last moments of the night stars while chewing and waiting for all the teams to ascend. Quietly, we continue grinding, staring, and waiting for the pretentious Sun. Out of the corners of my eyes dark figures begin forming this last line of defense. There are no words spoken; just the joyous noise of wandering faces covered in moonlight. Moses gnawing silhouette slowly fills the dark void between Dave and I. I smile a morning salute. I feel strangely relaxed in this embrace of shared anticipation, and slip back in time to a warm memory. I was twelve and anxiously waiting with my family and friends for the finale of that year’s Fourth of July fireworks celebration. Suddenly, the dark sky erupts with rainbows of sparkles and explosions of “Ahhhs!” I feel like I’m in that mesmerizing moment again. We all rest at attention, and patiently gaze into the cool east air.

              Paul whispers, “There it is-the ‘morning star’-Venus.” We ponder the planet playing in the first sign of Sun life. I marvel, as the dark blue churns the black velvet back. Every second transforms this living tapestry with swirls of colors. Entranced, we glance at the dark scarlet shoving the indigo shade of blue further up. The bright twinkling’s wrestle in this war of the waves. The dim colors wash over the stars, making their final stand, but are plucked up and cast out into the outer darkness. Gentile golden finger tips begin peeking up and tickle the burgundy sky with its pretty pink crimson feather, that’s dedicated to painting the pink puffy clouds. In my seclusion I consider, “I’ve seen this sight a thousand times. But, I can’t imagine one more amazing.” My heart shouts at me to envision that one son rise two thousand years ago. I admit to this deliberation, and gratuitously nod my head in respect. “Please be with us all today,” I pray. “I know in my

heart you truly are the ‘star of the morning’.”

              Each team checks their sector of travel for any sign of LD. We then disband and race to beat the sunrise back down the ladder. Gary stays on the roof, and will act as the “watchman.” The rest of us shuffle through the dark towards the store’s entrance. Once there, we wait like paratroopers for the right moment to leap. I hand out three improvised compasses made from caps that came from three old furniture polish cans. Inside each is a magnetized piece of two inch wire that’s stuck through a makeshift cork. I jammed the cork into the cap to lock it in place. I hand each team one, and then explain they’ll need to add a little water for the cork to float. This is a north-south pointing compass. While they pack them, I decide to send one team at a time across the dark property.

              I wave Moses and Scotty up to the door. I double check the property area for any unusual outlying movement. The shadows in the broken forest are making it hard to detect the difference between the wind and the possible dark dancing devils. I lean out and check with the “watchman.” I see Gary waving that the “coast is clear” sign. I determine it’s safe and pat Moses on the shoulder while whispering, “It’s time. God go with you.” The team moves out and stumbles along the terrain till they disappear in the dark. I wave Dave and Randy up next. I repeat the same message, “It’s time. God go with you.” I smack Dave’s back as the pair dashes away into the dark. I realize in this moment, I have never felt this proud of Dave. Amanda and Jerry shuffle in to position. I order them to wait with my hand. I stare at the pair while listening for the “watchman.” Once again I say, “It’s time. God go with you.” I watch them dash, while saying a special silent prayer for this team. I turn my head briefly and ask Paul if he’s ready. I feel him attempting to remove my rucksack off my back, as my eyes turn towards the departing team. I watch them also fade into the shadows of the morning as Paul whispers, “We’ll share this load.” I find great comfort in those words for a change.

              We line up and I check our flanks. I check left while Paul keeps an eye on his right. “How’s everything looking pastor?” He pats my shoulder twice letting me know that the coast is clear. Side by side we make our move to the edge of the property, maneuvering through the duck and cover system. I hear the flopping sound of Paul’s rucksack, knowing it needs to be readjusted tighter. The hurried pace is causing Paul to breath hard. We make it to the darken tree line and find a spot to sit and rest amongst the slithering shadows. I lean over to assist Paul as he tries to tighten the sack on his own. I try and assist him while taking a quick observation of the eastward sector. I look at Paul’s mouth and see his breathing is returning to normal. I ask him, “Are you ready?” He nods his affirmation as we stand. I tell him, “I’ll lead and you follow my hand signals.” I move just far enough ahead to where I believe he will be able to accurately distinguish the difference between my hand signal and the moving morning shadows. I wave to him, commanding him to advance. I turn to look ahead as Paul races towards my position. I see the alleyway entrance, sensing the security it can offer. As Paul meets me, I wave him to continue on. We dash side by side the rest of the way into the alley.

              I see a good cover spot inside the alley and steer us in its direction. Paul appears in the path of my peripheral vision. I see he’s breathing faster than his legs are moving. We finally make it to the cover spot behind the dumpster just in time for me to watch Paul fall in exhaustion. I stick my head out, looking up the alley corridor for any signs of LD. I again give Paul a minute to catch his breath. I hear his gasping begin to slow, while wondering how the other teams are doing. The brilliant contrasting shades and colors on the horizon hypnotically force me to gaze up and see the last remaining stars dissolve into the effervescent blue yonder. A peace comes down to me, amidst this chaos of racing shadows. 

              The morning camouflage of Paul’s striped face is illuminated just enough to see him telling me he’s ready to

travel once more. I make a decision that we’ll travel side by side forgoing the maneuvering ritual. The cover of the shadows and the darkness of the alleyway will be our protection. I whisper to Paul, “Keep alert,” and shake my hand several times toward his right side; designating this as his sector of observation. I walk alongside methodically checking ahead, and to my left. I hear the steady crunching of fragments pulverizing, and then shoot out from under our advancing feet. We vigilantly stare for pot holes as we hurdle the morning shadows helping to hide them. Paul suddenly slips and skips over a small crater his eyes failed to detect. We both immediately stop and listen for possible reaction that his stomping feet make. The echo of his dance slowly fades away into the silence of this morning. We cautiously continue on.

              The light begins unmasking the scenic view of the purple mountains lining each side of the alley. Stripes of gold divulge the true identity of the irregular shapes. Large jagged chard splinters stab the mounds between us. These purple facades were once someone’s home. Rarely do we pass a structure that is still mostly intact. This is the first real experience Paul has of the town’s devastation since the meteor shower. The warm sun gradually begins to bake the lumps leavened with rotting corpses. The sweet scent of the fresh dew evaporates releasing the blanketed reek. Over the next ten blocks I notice Paul’s face turn from awestruck and disbelief to reverent numbness.

              We turn right at the end of this alley to go check the area around my former home. My mental note pad reminds me of the loud noise I heard the day I found Tiffany. For some reason the sound struck me as being manmade. We convert our strategy back to advancing by duck and cover; now that we are in the well lit open. I signal Paul to wait, as I move to the intersection of this street. I look left and see an overturned burnt military truck torn in half, blocking the street. A fairly large crater near it tells me it was the result of the meteor shower. I am startled by the light breeze swinging the

decimated driver’s side door slowly open. Its scratching noise unnerves me. It’s like finger nails grating over a chalkboard. I check my right flank and become aware of a distant figure on a mound at least a block, or more, away. This clear path through the destruction allows me to see a dark figure bending down just in front of a partial front of a house; as if it is looking through the blacken debris. I just have this gut feeling we should investigate this despairing entity.

              I wave at Paul to advance. Paul stoops behind the tree I’m hiding behind, as I silently signal him to wait here. I whisper, “I’m going to check this out. If I’m not back in three minutes, take off and head back home.” I peer out reestablishing my line of sight to see the figure now sitting on the mound of debris. I stare at it watching the sorrowful figure repeatedly jiggle up and down. The moving light slowly exposes its tattered attire dangling in the breeze. My compassion is confused. Should I go help? I continue to watch this scene of utter misery and desolation. I can’t be sure if this is a possible straggling Irreverent or a roving LD. It just sits in the open in front of the facade. I reason that it must be LD, due to its lack of concern towards concealment. I pan the perimeter for proof of its possible companions. The only things detected are the slow movements of the shortening shadows. All my reason tells me just to move on, but my spirit invites me to take a closer look. 

              I check constantly side to side for LD as I move up the street towards the object. It seems to be sitting with its arms pressing against its legs and head. I cut a path through the debris piles and sneak up near to it, while gathering information as to its existence. I am fairly safe, as long as it stays seated facing away, and I continue to move quietly. I turn on my first line of defense, found in my spirit sensing ability. I don’t feel the eerie demonic presence, or the radiating abundance of emptiness always associated with the evil pair. I

hear a male voice emanating from it, that seems to be conversing with himself. I manage to maneuver just twenty

feet, or so, from its position. I hear it strain to whimper between its self imposed questions. His scratchy voice sounds worn from excess crying. The only words I can make out are “Why?” leading off each of his sentences. I decide to move just a few feet closer to hear what it may be saying. I accidentally crush a small fragment sounding the alarm of my presences. He at once turns, stands, and prepares to charge me.

              I shift into flight mode and turn my body away. My eyes stay glued on him while preparing to adjust to his next move. He extends his arms fully outward unveiling himself to the full morning light. I freeze in my frenzy seeing he is not furious, or LD. There is no brand on him. It is like he thinks I am a LD waiting to attack him. He just stands there with closed eyes offering his self up to me. “Psss,” I whisper, “I’m Irreverent!” He collapses as soon as I finish saying these words. I turn before ascending the pile and see Pastor Paul’s head leaning out pass his hiding tree to take a peek. I immediately realize I’ve been gone way past the three minute mark, but Paul still remains. I wave to him to advance to my position as I proceed to this fallen man’s side. I turn him over and see his thin red face is covered with the salty sediment of dried tears. I figure it took every ounce of his remaining strength to stand up to me.

              Paul slips on a loose plank, while climbing the pile to assist me. The plank slaps out a sharp shrill that reverberates throughout this basin of wreckage. Paul stares up at me as if to say he’s sorry, but I know we got to get moving before we are all sorry. I signal him to hurry alongside me. We each grab the man’s arms and drag him down the pile, and then back towards the tree at the intersection. We stop briefly behind it employing its cover, and silently observe. Paul turns towards the alleyway to observe, and I turn my face back towards the heap. I see three outlying shadows materialize on a mound far away. They disappear and resurface a few seconds later atop a closer mound, suggesting they’re on their way to investigate the source of the sound. I hear one yelling something vulgar

and feel its hateful demonic spirit.

              We head for the safety of the alley as fast as we can. Carrying this man proves to be too much for us. I start looking for a possible shelter big enough to hide all three of us. Both of us begin praying very quietly as we continue. We make it into the alley as I notice the dragging trail we’re leaving in the dust. I tell Paul to stop, and then grab his legs. As he repositions himself, I see a set of horizontal shelter doors hiding between two dead bushes. We hustle over the fallen fence leading into the backyard of this property, breaking a few slats in our effort. I set the man down and tell Paul to grab his shoulders. I brush the bushes back, and lift the doors open. A cobweb curtain, mixed with leaves, prevents me from seeing inside the chamber. Approaching voices warn us they found our trail. I rush through the sticky net and pull it with me into the black abyss. Paul follows me dragging this man right behind him. I dump my sack and run back up the stairs. I lean down and tell Paul, “Use the flashlight in my rucksack. I’m going to through them off our trail.” I shut the doors, and then push the bushes back over the doors. I hear Paul’s voice reverberates against the underside of the doors, “No!”

              I leap over the fallen fence, back into the alley. I turn and run away from the LDs encroaching voices. At this moment, they turn in the alleyway and immediately identify me as Irreverent. I reach in my pocket and pull out a handful of weapons. I rush away while tossing a few of the homemade “caltrops” over my shoulder. These are four pronged spiked objects that always land with one point facing up. I made them from large “jacks” I borrowed from the girls playing back at “H.” I soaked them with lubricant for maximum effect. I hear their thumping steps gaining on me, but one seems to have fallen in pain. I hear a scream and smashing sound resembling a pile of lumber falling over. I sprinkle several more “caltrops” along the alleyway exit, as I run and gasp huge breathes. I turn at the end of the alley on to the street and attempt to initiate the “zigzag” maneuver. I head towards