The End is Now (12 page)

The first group she ventured into were total believers. She could tell because they were wearing T-shirts and had bumper stickers
on their guitars and Nalgene bottles that proclaimed them as such. Everyone had seen their most famous bumper sticker:
In case of rapture this car will be unmanned
.

Emily and most other people around Goodland had heard the urban legend of these bumper stickers. She knew they weren’t originally
intended to be any sort of religious or political statement. Rather, the guy who first created it did so for completely practical
reasons. He could picture the rapture coming in a flash and he saw the results being disastrous. Motorists that were left
behind would be unaware that cars would be stopping suddenly or flying off the side of the road and into ditches. The guy
must have thought these bumper stickers would be warning labels similar to signs that read
Falling Rocks
or
This Car Makes Sudden Stops
.

He had no idea these bumper stickers would be used as a cute way for homeschool moms to announce their faith. He would have
never invented them if he knew that.

These people were rapture fanatics. They would look at anything — the Reagan presidency, the cancellation of
Star Trek
, or whatever else — and decide that it was a sign of the end times. But Emily didn’t think there were that many rapture fanatics
in Goodland. She thought maybe twenty or thirty, tops. But at this corner of the school there were hundreds of them. Some
of them looked normal enough, businessmen and other professionals. Only now their coats were off and their sleeves were rolled
up so they could do their real work. Apparently their real work was standing around a giant bonfire as it popped and crackled
and singing songs like “I Wish We’d All Been Ready” and “Repent, Cleanse, Repeat.” In between these songs some members of
the group would debate about the miraculous sign they were waiting for. Emily walked around catching pieces of the conversation
that went like this:

“I can’t believe God would really destroy an elementary school.”

“Why not?”

“Because, you know, it’s full of children.”

“No, it’s not, they’ve all gone home for the day.”

“Yeah, but you know what I’m saying.”

“You’re saying God wouldn’t hurt children?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“What about the death angel?”

“Death angel?”

“In Exodus. It was the final plague. God killed all of those firstborn children. And that was just to save the Israelites.
Why wouldn’t God destroy an empty elementary school in Kansas to save the whole world?”

“Yeah, I guess that’s a good point.” And then there was the sound of guitar strumming.

“Oh man, Randolph is about to play ‘Turn, Turn, Turn, before You Burn, Burn, Burn.’ I love that song.” Then the two people
stopped their conversation and ran towards the acoustic guitar.

Emily didn’t quite know what to make of what she had heard. Sure, there were some messed up things about America, but blowing
up an elementary school seemed sort of messed up too. And besides, didn’t Jesus say that two wrongs don’t make a right? She
was pretty sure he did. But she wasn’t positive because church was lame and she’d stopped going the moment she had a choice.

So feeling upset and uneasy, Emily walked away from the believers. She wouldn’t go near them again. There was something a
little bit funny going on with them. Sure, they
seemed
friendly, but that was part of their trick. It was the same trick drug dealers and vampires and Mary Kay reps had used for
years.

The formula was simple: You find somebody weak, maybe even a little bit pathetic. You act all nice and warm and caring towards
them. That person becomes so grateful that somebody actually cares about them that they are willing to listen to anything.
And they
do
listen to anything. Then, before the person knows it, they’ve become a drone. Next thing you know they’re looking to create
drones of their own.

Emily didn’t know how people didn’t see when this was happening to them. Maybe that’s the worst part of rejection — it makes
a person so blind that they are willing to do absolutely anything to be accepted.

The next group Emily walked into was quite the opposite. They could not fathom that anyone could actually believe anything
would happen. They were saying that if the earth were going to be destroyed it’d be because of global warming, greenhouse
gas pollution, the rotting away of the ozone, our embarrassing dependence on fossil fuels, and the senseless destruction of
rain forests.

“No wonder they want the rapture to happen,” Emily overheard someone from this group say. “They’ve left planet Earth in such
bad shape they want God to rescue them.”

Emily wandered on towards other groups. She discovered one group of soccer moms debating whether or not the school was safe
to send their students to tomorrow. There was another group that consisted of men in expensive suits. They seemed to be talking
about the legal ramifications of this whole thing. They got quiet as she walked by.

And after that she stopped being able to tell who the other groups were, because most people were leaving. Word around the
school grounds was that the destruction was going to happen at sunset, because sunrise and sunset are when God does his most
dramatic work. And once sunlight was no longer anything but a memory, everyone decided the school was going to be fine. Some
were disappointed they didn’t see anything and others were glad the school was still in place.

But either way, most decided that they’d wasted too much time huddled around this elementary school. It was late. It was time
to get dinner. It was time to get on with their lives.

Emily was ready to get on with her life just like everyone else. When she’d made her way back to where her friends were hanging
out, she couldn’t find her ride. Most of the high schoolers were gone. The only proof that they were ever there were crushed
up beer and soda cans, candy wrappers, and empty boxes of cigarettes and cloves littered all over the hill. Emily asked one
of the unpopular girls who was still around where everyone went.

“I think most people went to the after party,” the unpopular girl said.

“The after party? There’s an after party?” Emily asked.

“We’re in high school. There’s an after party for everything.”

“Right,” Emily said, “but didn’t my friends at least wait for me?”

“I don’t know. Neil Pratchett just said ‘party at my place’ and everyone got in their cars and took off.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“I’m waiting for my dad.”

“Oh,” Emily said.

Then an image flashed across Emily’s thoughts: She was sitting on the hill in the dark with this unpopular girl waiting for
her own parents to pick her up. She’d spent the whole day reconstructing her image, and in the end she’d be just like this
poor unpopular girl next to her. But what was she supposed to do? It seemed like everyone with a car had left. And she had
to get a ride home because it was getting dark and all of the people left around Jefferson were starting to act crazy.

The believers’ bonfire was burning bright orange, the skeptics had environmentally friendly lamps around their site, and in
between those two sites there were just shadowy figures walking around. Who knows what those shadowy people were planning
on doing? Probably raping and pillaging and things like that.

Emily took out her phone to call her mother to come pick her up because she thought she’d rather be unpopular than be raped
or pillaged. The phone started to ring.

But then Curtis walked up.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Emily said back to Curtis. He was the boy she kissed after the big speech and it was no accident she picked him. His
eyes were ice blue, his hair was curly, and he had the most adorable dimples. Even in the twilight she could admire all of
that. Plus, he was a godsend. She could get a ride home and be popular.

“Hello,” Emily could hear her mother saying on the phone, but Emily hit the End Call button.

“What are you still doing here?”

“I’m kind of stuck. I was walking around.”

“Walking around?”

“I wanted to hear what all of the groups were saying about my brother’s prediction.”

“What are they saying?”

“Freaky stuff. I didn’t really understand it all.”

“Is that tough for you?”

“Is what tough?”

“People saying freaky things about your brother.”

“I don’t think they were talking about my brother at all. They were just using his prediction to say whatever they were already
thinking about.”

Curtis nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Why aren’t you at the after party?” Emily asked.

“After parties aren’t really my thing.”

“After parties are everyone’s thing.”

“Not mine.”

“Why?”

“Everyone’s always mingling around and talking about different things and I never know what to say in those kinds of conversations.
I like one-on-one conversations. That’s where I can be really interesting. Though I’m really waiting to say something interesting
and charming in this conversation and it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Keep trying. You’ll get there,” Emily said and smiled a little.

“You need a ride home?”

“Why don’t you give me a ride to the party first?”

“I just told you — ”

“I know, I know, but don’t worry. I know everyone and I can introduce you around.”

“Maybe — ”

“Come on. Just look at everyone I introduce you to as a one-onone conversation — it will give you lots of chances to be interesting
and charming.”

They hopped in his car and drove away from Jefferson.

As they were leaving she saw a news truck driving up. Sean McGuire was going to give another live report from the playground.
But there was nothing to worry about anymore. She’d saved her reputation, she’d find a date for homecoming, and in a few days
this whole situation would blow over. Life could go on. The rapture talk would once again disappear and this would be just
another chapter in the long line of Goodland’s unfulfilled apocalyptic predictions.

No big deal.

The blue glow from the TV was making Jeff’s eyes water. People weren’t meant to watch TV for this long. They weren’t meant
to eat this many stale generic Doritos and sit on the couch for this long either. And clothes certainly weren’t supposed to
be this sweaty. But this is what happens when you watch the news every hour, on the hour, scared that your son’s prophecy
might come true. Or at least that’s what he thought for the first six or so news updates. But now his body was just numb.
He was tingling from head to toe so badly, he wondered if blood was still circulating through his veins.

I need to get up and walk around, he thought. But every time he tried to get up, another news update would start. At the moment
he was watching what must have been his fourteenth news update of the day.

Sean McGuire was saying, “There is a group that’s started a bonfire and is singing religious songs, and another group lighting
lamps and shouting statistics about the melting of the polar caps. So all there is to say is there is a lot of activity going
on
around
the school, but nothing has happened
at
the school as of yet. Back to you, Nancy.”

Of course nothing has happened yet, Jeff thought. I knew nothing would. Not that I want anything to happen. I guess that’s
the whole point. I knew this would all amount to needless worry and fear. That’s why I told Amy to keep Will away from the
school in the first place.

“Do you want another sandwich?” Amy asked.

“No thanks.” Jeff said. He’d had three of Amy’s sandwiches in the last few hours. How many more sandwiches could he really
eat? And how many more “updates” could he watch?

He wanted to turn it all off — the phones, the TV, and everything else connecting them to the outside world. But every time
he’d mention it to his son, saying something like, “Let’s go throw the baseball around,” Will would always answer, “No thanks,
I don’t want to miss the update.”

But there never was an update. Just some news anchor with too much pomade in his hair saying, “Still a lot of unrest around
Jefferson but nothing has happened yet.” They continued to watch the updates. They watched all the way until the last update
at ten o’clock. And finally Jeff told them it was time for bed.

Once his whole family was asleep Jeff sat in bed with his tiny lamp on and tried to read another business book. But his thoughts
wouldn’t stay with the words on the page.

Instead his mind drifted: I did the right thing. I wish we wouldn’t have spent the whole day watching that but Will needed
to. He needed to know things were okay at his school. So, I was supportive. Isn’t that a dad’s job?

No, a man’s job is to lead his family, Jeff could hear his own father saying. His father had drilled these words into his
head. Growing up, that’s the way his father governed their home. His word was law. His orders were not questioned.

In fact, in all of the years growing up, Jeff only questioned his father once. It was the Christmas that Uncle Dale came to
visit. For Jeff, Uncle Dale was more than a family member. He was a role model. Uncle Dale had a mustache like Magnum P.I.
and a Harley Davidson just like the one Lorenzo Lamas drove around on. Jeff could imagine his uncle driving his Harley around
fighting crime and solving mysteries. And Uncle Dale was funny. He knew dirty knock, knock jokes (opposed to the lame clean
ones about oranges and interrupting cows) and Uncle Dale taught Jeff how to play poker.

That’s why Uncle Dale’s first and only visit to the Henderson household for Christmas was a pretty big deal for Jeff. When
his uncle walked inside the house, he was holding a bright red gift with Jeff’s name on it. And all through Christmas dinner
Jeff imagined all of the things that could be in the package. Maybe there was a rifle they could go hunting with or a really
small dirt bike. Jeff’s imagination was running so wild that he didn’t even notice all of the rum that Uncle Dale was pouring
into his egg nog.