Kyle Pratt - Through Many Fires

“I’m fine. The college has shut down until further notice and most of the students have left. I’m just waiting out things in the dorm. I wanted to talk to Mom and Dad about going home, but I haven’t been able to reach them. I stayed with friends a few days, but they left, so I figured it was safer here in the dorm than on the roads. Have you been able to phone our parents?”

“Not yet. The phone lines are restricted for official use, but I’ll keep trying. Do you have the TV on?”

“Of course. Nothing else is on. Helicopters show endless lines of cars heading away from the city in a massive horde. Everyone looking for gas and food. People being carjacked. Robberies. Murder. I’ve been scared to travel and afraid to stay.”

“The flow of refugees has slowed to a crawl. There isn’t much fuel left in the area. This might be your best time to travel. Do you have gas?”

“Yes, about ten gallons.”

“Do you have a gun?”

“No, you know I don’t,” she took a deep breath, “but I have thought about getting one. I’ve heard gunshots. Not on campus, but close enough. Do you think I should buy one?”

“You can’t get one now. They’ve all been bought or looted.”

“Look Sis, I’m going to have to go any second now, but I want you to read Matthew 24:15 -18. A close friend passed it along to me just this morning. The verse spoke to me in this time of tribulation, and I hope it does the same for you.”

“Okay I’ll look it up.”

“I love you, Sis. Read those verses and keep the news on. I’ve got to go.”

After hanging up, Lisa looked about the room. Where is my Bible? She walked over and turned up the volume on the television. The now normal terrorism aftermath news continued with reports of radiation patterns from stricken cities, causality counts, rationing and announcers on the scene of FEMA camps and food distribution centers, but nothing new about the northwest.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when her stomach grumbled. I haven’t had breakfast. She searched the cupboard of her tiny dorm room for something to eat. Anything will do. On the second self she found a candy bar and her Bible. Flipping through the pages as she ate, she came to Matthew 24.

15 When ye therefore shall see the abomination of desolation, spoken of by Daniel the prophet, stand in the holy place, (whoso readeth, let him understand:)

16 Then let them which be in Judaea flee into the mountains:

17 Let him which is on the housetop not come down to take anything out of his house:

18 Neither let him which is in the field return back to take his clothes.

That’s not comforting. Why did he want me to read that? Puzzled, she set her Bible aside, and leaned back in the chair to watch more news.

A TV reporter stood beside a map of the United States, “The state of California is under martial law along with the District of Columbia, Maryland, Northern Virginia and the Memphis metro area, due to terrorist attacks. In addition the cities of Baltimore, Chicago, Cleveland, Detroit….”

Wait… Peter didn’t say the passage was comforting. What did he say? Something about a close friend passing it to him. And he said it spoke to him in this ‘time of tribulation.’ She read it again. Words jumped out at her. … abomination of desolation… flee into the mountains… not come down to take anything… Oh God, it’s a message.

Lisa threw the luggage into the trunk of her small car with fear-aided ease and then slid in the driver’s seat. The smell of smoke from an unseen fire drifted across the nearly empty parking lot. Calm down. If it is another bomb Peter was warning about you don’t want to get in an accident. She turned the key and the old car sputtered to life. Taking a deep breath she shifted it into gear and headed across the campus.

Turning a corner she saw the wrought iron gates at the entrance of the campus were shut. She briefly considered ramming them like in the movies, but stopped just a few feet away. Stepping from the car she approached the gate. A thick chain and heavy lock secured it. She pulled on the chain hoping it would magically open. There was a gate at the far end of the campus, but she was certain it would also be locked. She gently bit her lip as she considered her options.

“What are you doing here?”

Lisa spun around and clamped down hard on her lip. A security guard was walking along the fence.

She rubbed her mouth. “I…I was going home, but the gate is locked.”

He shook his head. “I thought everyone was gone except us.”

“Us?” Lisa asked.

“Single guys on the security staff.” He pointed up the hill to the oldest building on the campus. “Several of us moved in up there. Also, there’s a few international students that are stuck here and a couple of professors staying in their offices, but I didn’t think any others were left here.” He walked up to the gate. “Are you sure you want to go off campus?”

Lisa took a deep breath and nodded.

“Where’s home?”

“Hansen.”

“Don’t stop for anything till you get there,” he said.

Returning to her car Lisa locked both doors. The guard opened one gate enough for her to exit. As she drove away from the campus onto the vacant street, she could see a cloud of smoke drifting down from the north. Turning on the radio she heard the usual litany.

“…have promised food and medical assistance. Some help is expected to arrive by air in the coming weeks, but the bulk will take several months to come by ship.

“Hospitals outside the red zones are overwhelmed, forcing the relocation of patients to facilities sometimes hundreds of miles away. In addition the massive exodus from all major cities has compounded the problem with additional injuries. All medical personal are asked to report to the nearest hospital or clinic.

“All military, National Guard and Coast Guard personnel are to report….”

Nothing new. She turned it down low.

Rounding the next corner she could see the freeway on ramp. Several cars were sitting almost blocking access. She slowed down. Something moved behind one of the vehicles. I’m going to another on ramp. She turned the wheel.

A shot rang out.

Hitting the gas pedal she sped to the left down a side street.

Less than a mile from the college and I’ve been shot at. She considered going back to the campus, but Peter’s warning pushed her onward.

She roared onto the freeway at the next open ramp. A single car zipped past her as she pulled into the lane. Abandoned vehicles had been pushed to the side leaving about half of the highway clear. It looked like a post-apocalyptic movie set.

She glanced in the rearview mirror. Soldiers on the overpass. That’s why it was clear. She smiled and hoped to see more.

Along both sides of the highway were malls and shops, but the people Lisa could see didn’t seem to be shopping. Some groups appeared to be walking south. Others pushed shopping carts filled with unbagged merchandise. Refugees and looters.

A mile down the road she was beginning to ease off the gas pedal when she spotted another group of armed men breaking into abandoned cars. Lisa zoomed by as fast as possible but, apparently content with looting vehicles they took little note of her.

Rounding the next curve a bit too fast, she struggled to keep her car from hitting an abandon vehicle. Coming out of the bend she heard a snap like the breaking of a twig and then a high pitched whine seemed to fill the car. As it reached a crescendo she wanted to clamp her hands over her ears. Then it stopped.