Philip Simpson - Tribulation

“Well,” she said, smiling contemptuously, “it seems there’s been a great rush of religious fervor going around here recently.”

Sam finished his mouthful and wiped his lips with a napkin. “What do you mean?”

“A few grunts have been going around spreading certain rumors.”

“About what?” Sam demanded.

“That if you repent now and welcome Jesus into your heart, you’ll still be saved and not spend eternity in Hell. Those that ask for forgiveness during the Tribulation will be spared when Jesus returns. That’s all the people around here care about now.”

“I think there’s more to it than that,” said Sam. “Before the Rapture, none of these people believed in God or Jesus. But how can they not now? They’ve seen it with their own eyes. They witnessed the Rapture. Have been preyed upon and stalked by demons. Some might have even seen angels. Everything predicted by the Bible is now coming true. How can you still be in denial in the face of that proof?”

Grace snorted dismissively. “They may have said the words, but it’s only for their own self-preservation. Would you want to spend the rest of eternity in Hell?” She paused and looked at Sam slightly askance. “Well, maybe you’re not exactly a great example.” Sam smiled wryly at that.

“So anyway,” she continued, “the word is that if you say the right things or perhaps make yourself a martyr, He’ll forgive you when you die or get taken to Hell and eventually you’ll be allowed back into his kingdom — whether it be in Heaven or on Earth after Jesus returns.”

“So you aren’t going to welcome him into your heart?” he asked.

Grace looked at him for a moment before answering. “If Jesus is so good, why did he take my parents and leave me all alone in the world? Why did he allow everyone else I’ve ever known, including my aunty and uncle, to be taken to Hell to suffer endless torment? Is that the sign of a good and caring being? I don’t think so. You probably should reconsider as well. It’s alright for everyone else to redeem themselves and be forgiven but not you. It doesn’t matter what you do, you won’t be welcome in Heaven or in his Kingdom on Earth.”

Sam shrugged, not willing to get into this debate, primarily because a part of him agreed with her and it touched a raw nerve. Despite everything he’d done, everything he’d suffered and given up, he would never be allowed into Heaven. And he was one of the believers. He’d saved many innocents, just like he’d been instructed to do by the Archangel Gabriel. And his reward? Probably eternal suffering in Hell. Sam knew this was unfair but had resigned himself to it years ago. It didn’t mean it still didn’t hurt though. It was an open wound, which had a tendency to fester more and more these days.

“You should see them,” smiled Grace. “Piling up in the church. Standing room only. Most of them spill out into the grounds. I don’t know how they can hear the soldier-turned-preacher up in the pulpit. The hospital is almost as bad. You’d think God saved them and not the antibiotics.” She shook her head sadly.

“Wouldn’t it be easier for you just to accept Him rather than go through all this resistance?” he asked.

“Who?” she asked innocently.

“You know who,” he said. “Don’t be difficult. Do you really want to spend the rest of eternity in Hell when you can avoid it? You, more than anyone else around here, know what it’s like.”

Grace suddenly lent forward, her face intent, lips pursed. “You think you know me, don’t you, Sam?” she hissed. “But you really don’t. You’ve never bothered to ask. If you had, you’d know that my parents were do-gooders, true believers. Went to church every Sunday. They tried to make me read the Bible but I wouldn’t. Didn’t want to. It seemed pointless to me. And you know what? After a while they gave up — gave up on me. Left me to my own devices. Why didn’t they try a little harder? If they had, I wouldn’t have been left here all by myself. They must have known what could happen. Did I really mean that little to them?”

“I’m sure you meant everything to them,” said Sam, meaning every word. “It sounds like they tried but you were…stubborn.”

Grace sat back. “You’re not making me feel any better.”

“I know and I’m sorry. But are you really going to be so stubborn that you’ll allow yourself to be taken to Hell again when all this is over? I know you’re angry, but there are limits.”

She shook her head. “Not for me, there aren’t.”

“Don’t you want to see your parents again?”

“Of course I do! How can you ask me that?” Her voice was rising again. Curious glances were cast in their direction. She lowered her voice. “But I don’t want them to say I told you so. I don’t think I could take that.”

“So what are you going to do then?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know but there has to be another way.”

They sat in silence for long moments. Sam didn’t know what to say in the face of her stubbornness. He really didn’t know what else to say to convince her. It was her decision to make, no-one else’s.”What have you been up to anyway?” he asked, keen to change the conversation. He also finally remembered to take a more personal interest in her. Years earlier, Aimi had told him that it was important to ask women questions about themselves. He hadn’t quite worked out why yet.

Grace shrugged. Lately, she seemed to do that even more than Sam. “Nothing much. I went out on a couple of supply missions with the grunts but it was hardly anything to write home about. Found some food and guns at an old abandoned homestead. Even brought in a few stragglers that the demons had missed. Other than that, pretty boring.”

“You should come out with me next time,” he said, trying his best to connect with her, trying desperately to repair the rift between them. She never gave him the chance.

“With the great and mighty, Sam? Little old me?” She rolled her eyes. “Surely, I’d just slow you down. Heaven forbid that I might get captured again.”

Sam picked up his tray and stood. There was no point in talking to her when she was in this mood. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

On his way out, she called his name and he turned.

“Do you ever think about him?” she asked.

Sam stared at her for a moment, at a complete loss as to what to say. Like they shared a limited form of telepathy, he knew exactly who she was talking about.

Joshua.

Without another word, he turned and strode out of the mess hall, trying to outdistance the dark memories of the past.

Sam sat in a chair in the waiting room outside Colonel Wheat’s office. Adam sat in the chair next to him, taking up both his armrest and Sam’s with his bulk and shifting restlessly. Chairs weren’t designed for someone like Adam.

A desk sat in one corner. Behind it, sat a young man in the uniform of a lieutenant. The Colonel’s aide. Other than show a little deference to Adam, he’d basically ignored them since they had arrived. The intercom buzzed.

“The Colonel will see you now,” he said.

Both he and Adam stood. The lieutenant opened the door for them into the Colonel’s office. Inside, framed by a large window overlooking the base, was the Colonel desk, dominating the room with its size. A large leather chair, tattered but still useable, was filled with a man built almost as solidly as Adam. He stood as they entered, revealing a frame that was almost as tall as Sam’s. A very imposing figure, this Colonel Wheat, and Sam had found him to be fairly straight forward and honest too. He hadn’t warmed to him like he did Adam, but their relationship was still solid.