Desolation

He knew most of his neighbors, but what about the others? When others found out he had all this, wouldn’t they try to take it? How could they be safe once their baby was born? How could he possibly protect them? He thought about the gun Max gave him, which was hidden from his wife in the closet. Maria, who saw goodness in every soul, would never agree to his having one. Could he even use it if he had to?

“She’s coming, mija. Push!” Lita yelled again.

“¡Ya!” an exhausted Maria retorted.

“Miguel, more towels!” Lita bellowed her midwife orders. He jumped, attempted to move forward, and promptly fell flat on his face, blocking his fall with his hands just in time to keep from breaking his nose or chipping his teeth. Only his pride was bruised. He leapt up, grabbed two towels, and handed them to Lita who hadn’t noticed a thing.

A baby’s cry, raspy from nine months of amniotic fluid, sang out. Hello, world.

Hello, dying world.

3. Feed My Children

East of Joliet, Illinois

“Where is my damned breakfast?” he shouted.

Thomas, always the first responder to his whims, appeared at his door straightaway and gave it a tentative push before entering. “Sorry Teacher, but the cooks and hotel workers left days ago. It’s only us now. I made you a chicken sandwich,” he said, his voice rising, offering what he hoped would be pleasing. “It’s dry, because we had to toss out all the stuff in the dead refrigerator.” Thomas presented the platter confident at least the chicken in the sandwich was still good. The hotel’s refrigerator had been nothing more than an oversized cooler after the power went out; their attempts to coax a few more days of chill out of it were less effective every time they opened it. Yesterday they had declared the many-thousand-dollar commercial refrigerator officially a dead hunk of metal. Thomas smartly thought to cook all the meats while they still had some bottled gas. But without refrigeration, the mayo and dairy products had gone bad a few days ago and had to be thrown away. More troublesome, though, would be the next few days. That was all the time their group had, based on the remaining cooked meats and canned food, before they would need to scavenge for more food elsewhere or move on. He didn’t even want to think about what the hundreds of followers outside were going to do.

On the platter rested a plate with a sandwich, a few pickles, some potato chips, and a glass of warm water. Ice was a luxury that wouldn’t exist until winter came or the power was back on. The Teacher took to it like a half-starved lion gorging itself on a wounded doe. “You are a good servant, Thomas.” In the middle of chewing a big bite, he asked, “How many in our group are here?”

“Well, Teacher, some of these have left too. There are still about fifty. And …” Thomas trailed off, considering the words he had practiced.

“And what?” Teacher asked, his words slightly muffled by a mouthful of chicken sandwich.

“Well, there are maybe three hundred followers outside the hotel, camped on and around the grounds. They are waiting to hear from you. They are scared about the sky and waiting for you to tell them what this means and what they are supposed to do next. Many are saying this is Armageddon and you are the Second Coming. Also, many are wondering if we are going to continue to go west or stay here. But, if we stay here, we will run out of food soon.”

Thomas had been waiting to ask the Teacher these things since the power went out ten days ago. They had been in this hotel outside Joliet for two weeks. Everyone knew this was something big and permanent. Since what some of the Teacher’s people were calling the “Event,” there had been no power, no cars operating, and all their electronic devices appeared to be dead. Brooklyn—no one could remember his name, only that he came from Brooklyn, New York—had found a little battery-powered portable radio in the basement. Excitedly, he brought it up, yelling that it worked. When he turned it on, it did appear to work; he twirled the dial, searching for a station from anywhere. It played static, which after silence sounded almost magical; at least that was something. Then, less than a minute later, came a clicking noise like an invisible hand reached in and squeezed the insides dead. Now it was just another piece of electronic junk.

He watched the Teacher leisurely chew his sandwich. It seemed that after each bite, his face curled into a poised smile, as if he had known this was all going to happen and he was in complete control. Thomas had grown to both love and fear this man, who appeared to have control over the elements, able to call up the auroras and the electricity that seemed to be everywhere. He had performed healing miracles, too; he’d brought back a blind man’s sight. Thomas was starting to think the Teacher really was a messenger from God. Who knows, maybe he was the Second Coming like some of his followers claimed.