A Abba's Apocalypse (8 page)

              “Why did they do that?” I think. I occupy my mind with all the possible reason. “Is it to flush out Irreverent through fear? Maybe they are setting a trap of some kind?” I

approach the street at the end of this alley and see why. There are three mostly naked chained bodies fixed to telephone poles on the adjacent street. Each is decorated with dozens of locks. Each one of these wretched souls wiggles in pain and groans in agony. Each wears a barbed wire crown. And, each looks like they were whipped with the barbwire before it became their crown. Each body is blackened by a brutal beating. Each of their hands is nailed to their pole. Each body is covered in blood. Each has a sign nailed above them. Each of these exhausted martyrs’ moan for help, or prays for death. “This is more than a warning” my heart screams! This is past even mockery. These human hostages are a dare. These chains and locks suggest to anyone planning a rescue, “This is a choice you will lose!”

              I know this is a trap, but I sense there is something more. I don’t dare go any closer than I am. My spirit agonizes in the swell of compassion flowing over me. I command myself, “I must not be over taken with compassion!” I realize there’s nothing I can do right now, except get these supplies home. I hurry to get home as those savage images burn in my heart and mind.

              I precariously make it to the backyard fence as my mind and heart continue to battle each other. I see there are no signs the LD have been this way-yet. I toss my rucksack over the fence, and then myself. The dimming orange yellowish light says it’s almost evening. My sturdy long shadow precedes the dancing of my sack as I race to my back door. It makes it to the house first, and then stands up at attention on my back porch. A second later I muffle through the slither opening in the door jam, “Dave, open up. It’s Joey.” I hear soft footsteps creek their way towards me. The restraining chair carefully scratches the wooden floor as it’s carefully dragged away. The removing of the security chain seems to be taking forever. Finally, Dave finishes the rigorous process as I escape the tension outside. I rub my hands all over my face as I sit on the floor next to the door. I tell him, “Give me a few seconds.”

I take a moment to reflect and absorb the security of home. I decide to take care of immediate business before telling Dave about everything that’s happen.

              Dave opens the rucksack knowing there are rations inside. He lifts out the medical kit I prepared from the supplies at “T,” and then sets it next to Katie’s husband. Dave returns to the sack and grabs himself a MRE. I sit watching him rip it open. He pulls back the foil, revealing the smell of meatloaf, which he hurriedly chews like a candy bar. I scoot over to the covered sleeping lump on the floor. “How’s he been?” I whisper.  Dave chews out, “Oh, his name is Moses. He woke up a couple times. Once was long enough to tell me his name. He kept saying, ‘Thank you’ over and over.” I methodically pull the cover down from his face, hoping the blanket hasn’t stuck to Moses wounds. “Hi sleepyhead, I brought you some antiseptic and fresh bandages.” His swollen eye lids are froze in place leaving just a slight gap. The whites of his eyes roll down as two blue orbs follow. “I need to apply some antibiotic cream on your wounds.” He’s conscience enough to realize this is going to hurt. The expected pain causes Moses to stretch his puffed blacken cheeks into further agony. I dab clean water on his wounds, and then apply the soothing ointment which immediately softens the drawn stitches. His eyes and face are full of questions that demand urgent answers. I continue dressing his sores and tell him, “Relax buddy, everything will be fine.”

              “Now, I want you to stay still while I tell you about Katie-okay? First, your family is worried about you. But, they are just fine.” Moses pleasure of this news defeats his pain as he forms a small smile of gratitude. “I’m going to see her first thing tomorrow morning, and bring them food and supplies. I’ll tell her you are just fine, but you can’t walk just yet.” I try thinking of all the things he might want to say to her if he could. “I’ll tell her you love and miss her, then I’ll give her a big kiss and a hug. Well, maybe not the big kissing part.” Moses slowly grabs my shirt sleeve as his eyes dance with

tears of laughter. In this moment, I know I’ve made a lifelong friend.

              “Hey big guy, I want you to take a couple pills for me. Do you think you can?” I wonder if I can force them past his swollen lips, and shove them far enough in for him to swallow? I ask, “Dave, get me a cup of water,” as I open the bag of penicillin. I try making Moses laugh a little more, hoping it will pry open his scabbed lips. “Here comes the chew-chew train.” I make the cup of water bump and bounce up and down as it dances towards his mouth. Moses strains to lift his head as I quickly slide my free hand under it assisting him up slightly. I pour a little water, attempting to lubricate his lips, mouth, and parched throat. I slide the pills in his mouth as I watch a pink stream drizzle a trail down both cheeks. Moses struggles to swallow as I watch his throat stretch. My compassion awakes inside me to see this mountain of a man reduced to his current pathetic condition. My dark compassion overtakes my desire to destroy the evil that could hurt such a big babe. I silently weep and war as I address his wounds.

              “Moses, I want to tell you what else happen when I visited Katie.” I explain to him about the salvation message and God’s promise of eternal life. I even tell him about my wonderful experience in Heaven. “All these things, Moses, you can have too. It is called grace, and it is a gift from God. You just have to want it, and you just have to ask Jesus to come in to your heart. Tell Him you need Him, and you too will have the eternal promise and power that comes with it.

Katie did.” He again pulls my sleeve and tries nodding his head, “Yes.” I tell him, “That’s all you needed to do big guy” I welcome him in the brotherhood of the eternal saints. A peace, such a sweet peace, brings joy to his face, as he retreats in the comfort of anew soothing sleep.

              “Dave, come in to the front room. I need to tell you some things.” As we walk, I think of how I am going to

explain what happened today. I don’t know how to break it

gently, so I give him all the details. He takes the news badly. He starts uncontrollably shaking, and then crying so violently it causes him to collapses under the weight of his fear. His weaken body leans onto the wall behind, and then slides down it. Dave becomes frantic after I explain what I must do. “I got to go and see how I can help those crucified Irreverent.” Dave yells, “No, no, no you can’t! We’ve got to take care of us. What happens to Moses and me when you’re caught?” I whisper, “Keep it down Dave. Do you want the LD here too? This is something I got to do. I’ve just got to try.” Something inside me won’t allow me to enjoy safety while they hang there in hopeless misery. Dave searches inside himself and knows this is right. I prepare a few things to bring with me as Dave finds my “bolt cutters” in the garage. “I got to go. Every second lost is one more eternal second for them. Pray for me buddy. Please pray for me.” I sling the newly supplied rucksack over my shoulder and decide to exit through the front door. Dave sticks the “bolt cutters” in the sacks webbing as I peer out the door. “Okay buddy, I’m out of here.” He gently shuts the door as his words slowly disappear “I’ll be praying for you Joey.”

              I am praying the extreme darkness of this night will be my friend, and hoping it will hide me from the evil waiting ahead. My eyes adjust to the unusual eerie blackness as my soul continually prays for supernatural protection. My fear grows every step closer I get to the martyrs. If not for the shaking of my legs I believe my shoes would freeze to the pavement. Every part of me says to turn back. Yet, I move forward. Every thought reminds me how foolish this venture is. Yet, I go on. There is some substance amidst my prayers torturing my logic. The faint whisper inside me grows louder and louder with every step I take. I don’t know what it is saying, but it comforts me. It feels like evil has swallowed all the light in the world-this night.

              Howling and moaning swirls around me, echoing a

warning. But, the evil inviting me to attend this feast of the

martyrs. An awful vision appears to me. It’s me hanging alongside the martyred. I rebuke it! Yet, I go on. This night’s air grows thick with a foul stench.

              I fight my way to the end of this lengthy street. I’ve never been this scared. I prepare to turn left onto the street of the martyr as that whisper grows louder inside me. I step around the corner and see; not just three, but now a dozen hanging bodies filing along each side of the street. Stale blood painted on the pavement mingles with the fresh blood that drips, and drifts upon the repulsive night air. I think this must be the perfume of evil. I know life still lingers here. The living produces the sound of plopping that drips down to their living pools of blood. I go on.

              I see and hear no evil as I walk down this street, but I feel its presence. I reach back and remove my flashlight from my sack. I stop at the first martyr and feel her old cold dead body with my free hand. I move to the next and see the frozen horror on his young face. His life is also gone. My boots crackle as I step on the next corpse’s dried fallen remains. Deep sorrow overtakes me, as I look at her once beautiful face. I find the next body past her is as hard and cold as pond ice. My faith grows weaker every step I take. I am reminded of the courage these souls had each step I take. All of them refused the brand. I draw from them the strength I need to go on.

              I count nine empty bodies that suffer no more. I have no more tears left to give these dear brave souls. The weight of my sorrow is breaking my heart in two. Something pushes me on though.

              I touch the foot of what looks like a teen age boy whose face has become old in a day. I realize he must be one of the three I saw earlier today, because they all had signs above them. The sign above him reads, “We have your young.” The heaviness of the chains and locks must have torn his right arm loose from the nail. His nail pierced hand hangs over his sacrificed harden puddle of blood below him. One of his fingers is frozen in a peculiar pointing position. He seems to

be reminding me of a greater sacrifice paid long ago. I give up hope any innocent Irreverent will be alive. Yet, I go on.

              My heart feels as hard as these cold corpses. I struggle to the next pole containing a grey motionless body. I steer my light up to the crooked sign just above his head saying, “They will be ours.” I bring the light down over his agonizing face. I look for signs in his face of the story it might tell about the horror of today. I jump back in astonishment. I think, “Did his mouth just move?” I stare at the corner of his mouth stretching slightly. I question if this is just a reaction to rigor mortis? “No!” my heart screams. I watch his lips open ever so slightly. I pull my “bolt cutters” quickly from my sack as I hear a slight moan from the next pole. I flash my light to see the pale face of a woman gently lifting the heavy weight of her barbwire crowned head. I think, “Two alive, Thank God!” I frantically move in position trying to cut his restraints, but I don’t know where to start. Should I cut the heavy chains or the nails in his hands first? I just know I must hurry. I tell him, “I’m here friend,” as I think, “Please stay alive.” I find a new strength to go on. It comes from the joy of possibly saving some of these poor wretched souls on this miserable dark night.

              “You fool! Do you think you can steal them from us?” This sarcastic command is screamed out from the darkness behind me. I don’t dare turn around; as my skin turns to stone. I hear evil laughter begin surrounding me. There’s a rush of Demons lining up to do battle. I don’t know why they just don’t instantly destroy me? I feel myself ready to break as I shake in my devastation. “We are legions and legions of warriors.” One advances and mightily and violently slams me to the street. Yet, I live. The whisper inside me returns as I drift into unconsciousness. Now I hear its words plainly.

              “Will you stand with me Joey?” I feel His holy presence pushing back the evil. “Will you be brave for me?” This gentle firm voice enters my dazed state of mind. I think in this moment how I am nothing. “Will you fight for me my son?” I

feel myself dying in the pain of my broken body. My little Flicker lands near my face as I stare at his and think, “How brave a little friend you are to come and stand with me.” His head tilts as if to ask me, “Will you?” I swell with a righteous anger that obligates me to try and get up. I think how these martyrs’ died so heroically. I struggle to whisper, “Yes, I will stand for you Lord.” I push myself through my agonizing ache up on my broken arms. I scream loudly through my pain, “Yes, I will be brave for you my Lord God!” Blood rushes out of my mouth as I spit at the evil encircling me. “Yes, I will fight for you, and even die for you, my Lord and Savior! For, you are my God!”              

              I watch as I stand now seeing the forces of the night. This invisible world materializes showing the evil monsters encompassing me. There are thousands upon thousands of hideous giants waiting to tear me to shreds. I feel God’s supernatural presence repair my brokenness as I see the evil tremble. My little Flicker leaps to my shoulder and looks steadily ahead. I scream once more, “Yes Lord, I will stand for you!” Flicker leans his head forward as if he is preparing to charge. He looks more like a ferocious Eagle preparing to swoop mercilessly on its helpless prey than the tiny bird he is. I stretch my arms upward and march forward into the multitude of these damned.

              Flicker leaps ahead as I scream, “In the name of Jesus; I rebuke you!” I hear explosions behind me as I feel the warmth of this most extraordinary light approaching. I race towards the evil foe while pleading, “In the blood of Jesus-be gone!” I notice just the mention of His name causes this hoard to buckle in pain. A juggernaut wind passes me, knocking me to the ground. I anxiously lift myself to reenter the attack, but a friendly invisible voice tells me, “Stay down.” I lift my face and see wonderful beings appear, but only momentarily. My allies sparkle with each strike of their flaming swords, and then vanish. My furious Flicker flies a protective circle around the two souls still hanging. He shrieks a deafening roar daring