Desolation

“It’s m-m-me,” came the stuttering response, “it’s Judas Feinstein, your neighbor across the street.” His muffled voice feebly penetrated the door, barely audible.

The pervert? Clyde thought. It was that fat, perverted little man who he was sure watched him and others in the neighborhood.

He opened the door and the pervert breezed in as if they were old friends and he had been there many times before, which he had not. “Quick, close the door,” Judas said in a hurried whisper. “Trust me; you don’t want them to see us here, together.”

“Who, those drug dealer assholes? They’ve been gone since the power went out,” Clyde said both curious and amused.

“No, the Kings next door.”

“You’ve been watching them, haven’t you?”

“Yes, and they have food and supplies and you’re going to get it for both of us,” Judas said in a perfunctory and certain manner.

In reality, Judas didn’t know if this plan had any chance of working. He was starving and had to do something. So, last night he’d come up with this scheme and decided to push ahead, waiting as long as he could before daring to wake Clyde. Judas didn’t really know much about Clyde, but he knew that their hate for Thompson was pretty much equal. And with the information Judas had, he hoped to persuade Clyde to help him.

Clyde took a look at this man, who reminded him of the Ferengi on the newer Star Trek TV shows. He was short, extremely obese, although he looked a little skinnier now—no doubt from the end-of-the-world diet plan—and the skin of his neck hung like the jowls of some over-sized shar-pei. He wore a dirty white T-shirt that had a stained and sweaty lived-in look. Around his neck was draped his trademark binoculars, the straps appearing to mark his tee on and below the neckline: an indication that he wore them all the time.

There was nothing to like about Judas, but Clyde figured this little man must have something he could use.

“All right, Judas, what do you have for me that would make me want to do something for you?”

“I know where Thompson keeps his supplies, and I know Thompson is not here anymore and may never come back again, leaving the Kings on their own.” Judas revealed a Cheshire grin of greenish-brown teeth.

While listening to Judas, Clyde noticed shadows pass by the stained glass on each side of his doors, shadows of people headed east.

“Shhh, someone is outside,” Clyde whispered while shuffling around the hallway wall into his kitchen to look through the window. Judas’s footsteps were close behind.

It was the Kings, walking down the street, dressed in clean clothes, and pulling boxes on a hand trolley. Wait, was it Sunday? Were they going to church?

Clyde turned to the pervert, nearly touching his nose and drawing back quickly. “Judas, do you have a clean shirt?”

15. Mixed Blessings

“And Lord, please bless those who’ve been taken before us. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

In unison with the whole congregation, Bill, Lisa, and Sally responded “amen.” They squeezed each other’s hands tightly and released.

After the service, they were among the first in line to shake Pastor John Disciple’s hand on the way out of the narthex.

"Thank you and your family so much for the wonderfully large donation of food.” Pastor John’s grip was firm, the motion vigorous.

"It was nothing, Pastor. We have much more than we need,” Lisa responded before Bill could say a word.

Bill shot her a glance that asked why did you divulge that info publicly?

Lisa responded with her own glance that said don’t push it, this was our agreement.

The three of them left the church hand in hand. They were unified as a family, although not in agreement over the results of the action. Lisa was excited that they could give a little and maybe save a few people with the food gifts. Sally was glad to be doing something, anything, positive. Bill was sure it was like a few raindrops in the ocean. After all, what would one or two days’ worth of food mean to those recipients weeks or months after this? They would still die! However, that food might help them survive another few days, which might make the difference between life and death. Regardless, Bill had to agree it felt good going to church for the first time since Easter. That gave him a little sense of peace, something he hadn’t felt since the day before the Event.