S Ison - Russian Doomsday

“Wow, aren’t you the little prepper?” Margo grinned. “That is a great idea. I was glad to find out that the propane tank is full. I had expected us to have to get it filled up. I just wish we didn’t have to pay for it,” she said.

“At least they only charged us what they paid for it and not today’s prices. That would have been crazy expensive,” Pike agreed.

“I’m looking into how to cook like old homesteaders. The videos and articles are really interesting. I’ve already got some recipes that would be good to cook on an open fire. Guess who’s going to be my guinea pig?” she laughed, her eyes crinkling.

Pike raised his glass. “Don’t mind a bit. I think the owners are leaving some of the furnishings. Maybe they will leave those cast iron pots and pans we saw in the basement too? I hope so, as that will save us from having to buy more. I’d like to save money where we can,” Pike said.

“I hope so too. We’re getting there, Pike. I’m really starting to think we’re making headway. Like I can breathe now. I don’t feel quite as frightened and out of control like I was before you got here. I’m really glad you are here,” she said, smiling at him.

Pike felt a warm glow suffuse his face and warmth radiated through his body. His heart beat heavy in his chest. He wanted to lean over to kiss her, but he didn’t. “I’m glad I’m here too, and I agree, I’m also breathing a little easier. Having forward momentum has a lot to do with it. As long as we keep going forward, learning and doing, I think we’ll be okay.” He placed his larger hand over her smaller one and squeezed gently.

She returned his smile. “I ordered a book on natural cures and edible plants that are native to Missouri, too,” Margo said, her tone almost shy now.

The conversation wound down and each were in their own thoughts. It had become awkward moment, and Pike wished he could rewind back to before he’d squeezed her hand. He gazed out at the night sky and wondered how he would be able to live with her and keep from touching her. He didn’t want to be relegated to the friend zone. God help him if he were.

Robert sat in the dark church, tears cascading down his face. Devon Nater sat beside him, silent. Robert tried to get himself under control, but it was difficult. Devon had been sent by his church and congregation to fire him. FIRE HIM!

He was so humiliated and devastated. He tried to look at Devon through tears. “I don’t understand it Devon. I’ve been here for over four years. I’ve been a good pastor, I’ve led these people with the very best of my ability.”

“I’m sorry, Robert. The decision wasn’t mine. My job was just to give you notice. The congregation voted you out,” Devon said, shrugging.

“Have they lost faith in me? Why this letter of termination?” he asked, wiping at his face.

“They voted, according to the bylaws, and voted you out. I’m sorry. They said you didn’t meet their spiritual need any longer. They have found a new man to fit the bill.”

“That fast? Was Rey behind all this?”

“I don’t know. I was only instructed to tell you, and to give you the termination papers.

“Do you think it was because of the vision, the dream about the end of times?” Robert pushed. He had to know what was behind this.

“Look, Robert, I just don’t know. It might have been. I really don’t know,” Devon repeated, frustration edging into his voice.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that… that this has been my life, my passion. It has always been what I was meant to do. What will I do now?”

“I don’t know, Robert. I have to go. I’m really sorry to have brought you this news,” Devon said, and got up and left the church.

Robert sat on alone. It was silent and he could hear his own harsh breathing bouncing back at him. He sniffed loudly and stood up. He went into the back of the church, to his office. He found a box and began to pack his belongings. He sat down heavily in his chair and looked around his office. So many memories.

And he was put out, just like that. Like trash. They’d sent Devon, one of the lowest members of the admin group. John Port, the leader of the congregation, didn’t have the backbone. He’d delegated.

He thought back to the previous Sunday. He’d tried to talk again about his dream. “Please ladies and gentlemen, it was a dream, yes, but I believe it to be a message. Something is coming, something bad.”

“Preacher, just preach and leave your dreams at home,” Rey had called, and a murmur of agreement had gone through the congregation. He’d flushed hotly. They’d not wanted to hear his words.

“I shall, but know that I have started preparing. If any of you wish to come to my home, we can sit and work up a plan. My door is always open, as it has been in the past,” He’d told them.

But no one had come. Still, he’d started preparing. Two of the bedrooms were now filled with boxes of food, and bottles of water were stacked in his garage.

This morning he’d bought extra propane tanks for the grill out back. He’d spent a great deal of his own money, and though he was prepared, he knew his parishioners were not.

But now, now he’d lost his church and his members, his congregation. He looked down at the paper. The members had said he was too stringent, too hardline. They wanted someone who didn’t push to be so upstanding and pure. They were human, they said, and he’d made them all feel guilty about their lives. Apparently, they’d not been comfortable with that, and so he’d been voted out.

All because they didn’t want to be reminded that they were sinners. He laughed contemptuously. Rey was more than likely behind that little bit. It was all gone, along with his dream.

He'd preached often about cherishing the family, the value of family, and keeping faithful to God and to family. Once again, heartburn with Rey. Rey had many of the church leaders in his pocket. It was political and Robert knew it. He’d never been good at politics in the church. All he wanted to do was spread the Word.

He wiped at the tears and looked around. He’d only been here four years, and these people meant everything to him. He tried not to be bitter, or angry, but he couldn’t fool God. He was. Sinners who wanted off easy, to not be reminded to do right, to love and believe in God. He shook his head. They didn’t want to hear about the disaster that was heading their way. They wanted to go on living their lives in ignorance. What kind of world was this? What kind of people were they?

There was going to come a day, judgment day, and they’d all be sorry. A savage smile crossed his lips. Yes, they’d be sorry.

Pike and Margo sat in the office of the realtor. They had just finished signing the papers and were finally the legal owners of the cabin on the lake. Pike grinned at Margo, who had tears in her eye. He stood and pulled her into his arms, holding her while she shook and cried.

The cabin was theirs! They’d done it. He understood why Margo was crying. He felt like crying along with her. As it was, he blinked back his own tears.

She laughed and pulled away, wiping at her face. “I don’t know why I’m crying. I’m so happy and relieved.”

“It’s because of how much this means to us, Margo. That our lives depend on it,” he said softly, not wanting anyone to hear them.

“Can we go and move in now? I don’t want to wait another minute,” she said, her eyes glowing green.

“Hell yeah, that’s a great idea,” he said, and hugged her again.

They left the agent’s office, waving good bye and calling out their thanks once more.