Read A Abba's Apocalypse Online

Authors: Charles E. Butler

A Abba's Apocalypse (7 page)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4: The Strength of David

 

              “Ohhh, helllp me!” comes crying out from my kitchen. I stretch consciousness into my jumbled mind as I yawn amidst the continuous moans waking me. I stagger to my feet snatching the wall for support as I whisper in the direction of the kitchen, “I’ll be there in a second.” I straddle the wall for a few paces as I wake up. Rays of sunshine lay a railroad track directly to the jostling lump on the kitchen floorboards. I ask myself along the way, “Is it morning already?” I find it is taking me longer than I thought it would, so I whisper again, “I’m coming.” I watch the blanket covering his face slowly slide off as his inflated cheeks flap a quiet, “Katie.” I squat down over him being careful not to press his swollen injures. I put my mouth to his ear as I speak, “It’s alright friend; everything will be okay.” I notice his blood filled eyes peeking through slithers of his bulging black flesh. I cannot help feeling some of the pain he is experiencing. “Katie, my babies” he strains out in agony. I tell him, “They’re fine. Don’t worry, and don’t try and talk. You need to be still and rest.” I proceed explaining all about my chance meeting with Katie. He defies his body’s will to rest as he hinges on my every word. “I’m going to bring your family some supplies tomorrow. I’ll tell them that you will be home soon. I’ll look after your family till then.” I inform him how Katie accepted God’s gift of eternal salvation. I assure him both Jesus and I were watching over his newly saved family. He reaches up as if to hug me, but he has no strength. The only power left in him is the, “Thank you” he repeats until his mind drifts once more away.

              I stand in the morning light in more ways than one. The yellow of the streaming beams suggest it is midmorning. My watch divulges my assumption to be correct. I see its 9:33 am. I splash some cold water on my face at the kitchen sink as Dave greets me with a shallow, “How was your night?” Through my towel I muffle, “Morning buddy.” Dave inquires about the condition of Katie’s husband. I inform him, “He’ll

need medicine and lots of prayer to get better.” We both decide to lay our hands on the three of us and pray for healing, guidance, and continued supernatural protection; all while the big guy sleeps.

              I tell Dave he needs to stay here while I go to “T” for food and medicine. “Sit near Katie’s husband, and keep him quiet. Keep him warm and attend to his needs. I’ll be back soon.” Dave replies he’s going up stairs to grab another blanket and his Bible. I grab the spare Bible from the secret supply chamber just in case God reveals another soul searching. I remove the back door barricade as Dave returns. I pan the backyard while Dave pats my back. I reply, “You too buddy,” as I exit. Dave quietly draws close and seals the door, as I bend, and then jog quickly to the backyard fence.

              I listen quietly for any signs of life before jumping over the fence. My heighten senses give me the okay. I proceed up and over as subtly as possible. I land in a front leaning prone position while detecting for signs of LD. My peripheral vision notices the bloody message we left on this side of the fence last night. I grab some dirt and rub the red trails. My mind makes a mental note to clean it later today. I stand and march off towards my mission for today. I am no longer terrified walking alone, because I travel with the confidence of Christ. 

              A passage from the Bible fuels my conscience and strengthens me. “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not yet seen.” The book of “Hebrews” is my morning breakfast, as my mind eats some of its stored passages.

              This is something I’ve always had problems with-“faith.” Science does not accept this concept and ridicules those who do. I don’t know why it is so important to God we have faith, but I know it’s impossible to please Him without it. It goes against my logical nature, but I also believe in something else that can’t be proven scientifically-“love.” That is the very essences of God!

              A scream off in the distance alerts me of possible LD

activity. Pressing forward, I rededicate my focus to audible and visual observation. More agonizing pain echoes from different distant clusters. It seems screams are coming from all around. I realize something is happening beyond the normal today. Commotion is raining down everywhere. “Yeah,” I confirm to myself, there’s never been this much LD activity before. I stay low and move fast towards “Project T.”

              My little Flicker appears out of this pandemonium. His flame of hope lifts my spirit as he lands at the entrance of the far alleyway. I see him standing statuette on top a chain link fence. My mind asks him, “What, no pretty song for me today?” I maneuver towards my blue buddy at regular intervals of observing, ducking, and then covering. A strange tingle tickles the skin of my neck warning me somehow that something is wrong. I decide to take heed to its advice and obscure my existence. It proves to be a good decision.

              One LD appears between the frameworks of fences lining the alleyway. She comes within reach of Flicker’s lifeless posture. She stops and stares at him. Her devoid emotional state seems to war with that part of her soul feeling compassion and beauty. Her face is painted with puzzlement while she peers at his petrified pose. Tenderly, her hand draws to his warm flame of hope. My spirit sorrowfully whispers, “Her soul awaits the fatal flames of Hell.” Sadness fills that void in her soul as she tries gently touching him. Flicker suddenly pricks a warning of the damnation and pain awaiting her. Anger of this revelation provokes her to swipe at him, but my Flicker flies off faster than her fury can retaliate. She retreats into her previous path of travel taking along the blood drop in her hand. I reflect, “Thanks little friend for the ‘heads up’ warning.”

              The next alley is further away than it was just moments ago. I move to a secure point at the end of this alley and assume a prone position. My eyes locate her on the adjacent street as she unites with the LD precession marching away. My head slowly slides side to side pitying this dark army.

I use this diversion to crossover to the other side.

              Remote shrieks far off follow me as I forage for cover. Perfect protection appears past a pile of debris. I remain on high alert to the surrounding screams, and possibility of LD, as I bend behind the pile. “Move out!” commands my mind; fighting my body’s desire to stay safely here and rest. “There’s no time to waste!” My mind keeps pushing me along from secure position to position. I finally realize there is one more block till I reach the hidden protection of “Project T.” I continue to methodically maneuver through the immediate mass of madness all around me.

              A spiritual force of evil looms thick in this day’s air. I take every precaution in approaching “T”. My mind tells me this is not a good idea while circling the entrance way. My conscience reminds me of those deeply depending on my success. I race upright to the stone sacrificing its stealthy secret. “Time is of the essence” is the rationale favoring the odds of chance. I hastily perform the entrance ritual that slides the stone aside, and then leap into its light below. Quickly, I turn and grab the stone and slide it back in place. Sitting lifeless, I listen on the steps just under it. A faint frantic conversation fills the foyer as I fear the worse. The muffled words that I detect echoing are not from the outside, but rather from deep below. A “whew” of relief is forced out of my subconscious. This strikes me as very unusual; since no one should be here till tomorrow. Quickly, I go repent the secret entrance code to open the hidden chamber below. I realize during this ritual the revealing flaw to this fortress; the pastor did not make the lower chamber soundproof. The stone in the floor pops up. I slide open the chamber as five sets of dismal eyes stare quietly at me. Waves of hurrying hands yell at me to descend now. I scamper five steps down, then reach and slide this entrance stone shut.              I warn my brothers’ about the sound traveling up and suggest we move further down in the chamber. We retreat to the chapel’s seclusion.

              After we’re all securely inside the chapel, I ask, “Why

are  you all here?” Each brother tries explaining their reason as they talk loudly over one another. It seems all out war has been declared on finding every Irreverent. My fellow brother Scotty gives an account of how his secret partner is captured by the LD. “I heard Joshua screaming as he was running towards my house. They grabbed Josh right before he tipped them off to where I live. I guess his fear of being caught got the best of him.” Scotty gives every terrifying detail as every brother intensely listens. Scotty cries in his hands suppressing his words: “The poor guy. I wanted to help Josh, but there was too many LD beating him. They promised he would take the brand or they’d cook him alive.” Every Irreverent brother here tells a similar story. Every accounting is about seeing someone they know being tore from their hiding place, or captured off the street. Brother Ken gives us the key reason for all the LD commotion.

              Kenny has a friend who’s too scared to risk becoming a member of “T”. But, Ken does bring this elderly gentleman food and supplies. It seems this old man over heard a possessed posse of LD shouting orders to each other outside his hiding place. Ken tells us the old man heard, “We’ve got to find our example. He’s around here somewhere.” Ken thinks they’ll tear the town down if they don’t find him. I know now the reason for all the LD activity. They’re looking for Katie’s husband, and those who helped him escape. Fear has taken us over. There’s never been a time our faith’s been tested so much. Never before did we need so much to don the protective “Armor of God.”

              Fear is the Devil’s weapon. It is the destroyer of faith. My brothers’ are shaken by what has happened. They worry about what they now face in light of this dark war. Not one here is showing concern for anything but themselves. Two brothers want to find the guy the LD are looking for and give him back to “Trinity’s” henchmen. Two other brothers want to take as much supplies as they can carry and leave town. I shake my head wondering how those brothers not currently

here will decide to divide our fate.    

              “I am the reason,” I tell my brothers. “The LD are looking for the man I stole from them last night.” I continue to explain what happened. I tell them how they tortured him, and how they left him as an example to scare us in to converting to their theology. I explain how the LD left him for dead, but I found him and he was still alive. “I will take responsibility for him” I exclaim! “I will take the chance caring for him and his family until he’s well enough to do it himself. I am sorry for the pain this causes all of you. God has revealed His purpose for my life. It is to save everyone He brings to me. ‘As for me and my house, we WILL serve the Lord’!” My expression convicts the room to silence as each of us search our own soul to what is right. And, to what God would have each one of us do.

              I go and bow before the chapel altar and pray. With open arms I prostrate and speak loudly to my God. “Jesus, please give me the ‘shield of faith’ to protect me against the evil that will attack me. Make my ‘breastplate of righteousness’ impenetrable to fear, torture, and doubt. Give me the ‘helmet of salvation,’ and the wisdom to discern and escape the Devil’s traps. Most of all dear Lord, give me the strength of ‘David’ to conquer giants that would come between us. Amen.” I feel all alone at this moment and sad for what we have become.

              The warmth of the multitude covers me, as my brothers hands begin laying upon my back and shoulders. They begin quietly praying over me. Some pray for forgiveness and some for strength to go through what we face. I know in my heart these trials will perfect our faith. And, I know if our God is for us, then who can stand against us. These are the times for men of courage. These are the times to trust in God. We pray in unity, pouring out our hearts towards Heaven. I don’t feel so alone anymore.

              Some of the men are too afraid to leave the protection found here. Three of the ten decide they are going to stay at

least till after Sunday meeting. Two say they won’t ever go back to their homes. My agenda is to grab the medicine and needed extra supplies and get moving. I realize I still have a lot to do. I stuff it all in an old military rucksack the founder graciously left in the supply room. I find a flashlight in the bag and turn it on. I’m amazed it works. I bid my comrades’ farewell and warn them to keep their heads low and voices down.

              Scotty follows me up to the main entrance while reassuring me that I have a copilot flying with me; and his name is Jesus. I give him a man hug and tell Scotty, “Thanks buddy.” I slide the stone underbelly very slowly and quietly away. I lift my head half way out and turn it to observe. I return my face slightly towards Scott and tell him, “Adios, I’m out of here.” I tap a “goodbye” pat on his shoulder as he replies, “God go with you Joey.” I “low dash” to the tree line as I hear the stone slide and click back in place. I pray for the power of invisibility that will keep me safely hid from the Demons until I get back home.

              I make it behind the first old Oak in this patch of forest. I catch my breath and observe for LD activity. It is amazingly quiet. I expected the air to be filled with screams. This quiet is the quietness you hear after a sizable snow. This quietness is yelling, “Something is just not right!” Every part of me prays for divine intervention as I maneuver the alley searching for protection. Pieces of torn clothing mark the asphalt trail home.

The tattered cloth shreds seem more like a warning with a purpose than windblown random remains. Some are too high off the ground to find their way there by chance. “No,” I deduct, these bloody swatches are particularly placed for a reason. I don’t yet understand why, but I know they are bloody little flags demanding attention. I keep low and keep moving.

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