Angel of the Apocalypse Read Free Page B

pastor's house. Pastor Abrams and his wife
sat in front of the TV and watched the news reports roll in. By
midnight, millions of cases of infection were reported all across the
world. Every five to ten minutes, the phone would ring with another
concerned member of the church calling in to see if the pastor and
his family were OK. The pastor consoled each caller, and assured them
that he would pray for their families. And yes, church service would
start as normal tomorrow morning.
    “ Are
you sure that's a good idea?” asked Sarah, as the pastor
completed yet another call with a concerned church member. “Shouldn't
everyone stay in their homes to prevent infection?”
    “ People
are scared,” replied the pastor. “They need help. They
need guidance. I'm not sure if the disease-” he stopped as
another violent image of the Antichrist flashed across his mind.
“I...”
    “ Justin,
are you OK?” asked Sarah.
    “ Yes,
I just...I think we should get some sleep. We have a big day
tomorrow.”

Chapter
3 – The Rapture

    The
pastor slept fitfully. He dreamed of a giant red dragon with ten
heads, rising from the ocean. The dragon emerged from the water and
walked towards him. One of the great dragon heads, wearing a crooked
crown, bent low to the ground and spoke in a voice that sounded like
thunder. “Little man of God, were is your faith now?”
    The
pastor shot bolt upright in bed. Staring ahead with wide eyes and
sweating profusely, the pastor nervously looked at his hands and
arms. Luckily, there was no sign of disease. He then turned to his
wife, who was just waking up. She also appeared to be OK. “Thank
God,” he mumbled under his breath. “Isaac!”
    “ Yeah?”
he heard a voice answer from his son's room.
    “ Is
everything all right?” asked the pastor.
    “ Yeah.
Why?”
    “ Never
mind.” The pastor didn't want to alarm his son.
    “ Are you OK?” asked his wife, rubbing the sleep away from her
eyes.
    “ Yes.
Come on, we need to get ready for church.”
    The
two got out of bed. The pastor took a shower while his wife made
breakfast. They could hear Isaac in his room playing video games.
    Breakfast
was spent eating cereal and watching the morning news. The disease
continued to spread. An estimated 350 million people were now
infected – nearly five percent of the world's population.
    Not
much was said that morning. After breakfast, the Abrams family
quietly got dressed and walked across the street to church. Only
about half the usual Sunday crowd arrived that morning. They filed
in, nervous and apprehensive, but glad to be among friends.
    The
congregation was seated quietly before the pastor. He looked at them
with sympathetic eyes and spoke, “I want to thank everyone for
coming here this Sunday morning. Instead of the usual sermon, I think
we should take this time to comfort each-”
    Thunder
boomed overhead, shaking the walls of the small church. Most of the
congregation peered out the windows, as they watched dark rolling
clouds cover the sky. More thunder roared overhead.
    “ Looks
like we're in for a bit of weather,” remarked the pastor. “I've
brought in the TV, so we can look at news updates as they happen. As
I was saying, I think we should use this time to console each other.
This is a frightful time for all of us. Please turn to your neighbor,
whoever is to the left or right of-”
    “ BOOM!”
Another round of thunder cracked just overhead.
    “ Pastor
Abrams?” Winston, an old Irish man sitting in the next to last
row of pews raised his hand.
    “ Yes,
Winston?” asked the pastor.
    The
old man paused for a moment. His voice slightly cracked when he said,
“I got a call this morning that Ru-”
    “ BOOM!”
Thunder cracked yet again.
    “ What
was that, again?” the pastor asked, cupping his hand behind his
ear. “I couldn't hear you.”
    Winston
repeated, speaking louder this time. “I received a call early
this morning from Ruth's daughter. Ruth...she passed away last