"It's not obvious at all - everyone thought it would happen at the turn of the millennium and it didn't. He said that he would come back like a thief in the night," Johnny gulped, "a thief…"
"Yes, you've said that before. But your myth and washed-out Christian religion have no power here. You're running on a whim, and no one is backing you up on this. Besides, other than your scripture," he pronounced the word filthily, as if there were grime washed into it, "what evidence do you have of this 'Day of Days'?" There was a mocking quality in the scientist's tone of voice - why did Johnny think that Dr. Morrison would even begin to understand?
"Never mind… I just thought, that…" Johnny choked back a tear, "well… never mind." John Thomas, age 23, hung up the phone. Well, no one else had believed him; what would make the scientists do so? Johnny felt the all-too-familiar pang of the beginning of one of his 'episodes.' Suddenly, as it had been doing for the past few months, his vision grew to a washed look, and the sound around him became muffled. He looked around and became very sleepy. He yawned and blinked. Johnny was standing near a riverbed, once again completely unaware of what was happening. He heard a noise, and looked far out in the distance.
What is that? A sheep - no a ram. Hmm…curious, to say the least... Johnny watched closely as one of the ram's horns grew longer than the other. But the air grew heavy again, and his vision became washed and blurry. When Johnny awoke from his sleep, he remembered nothing.
Jumping up from the living room floor in a cold sweat, he grabbed onto the counter and hoisted himself up. What is going on? A bit disconcerted, he staggered into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water. This is crazy. I'm going nuts… As the cool and refreshing water entered his throat, a fuzzy memory of a riverbed appeared in the back of his mind. Rivers? Yeah, this water is good… but… Johnny sat down by the telephone again. This was going to be a long day.
Tuesday, January 15th, 2002: Bartlett, IL, USA
Erin 'Willow' Guimon was running early in the morning at Bartlett for track practice. She was a senior there, and like most seniors, had absolutely no idea what she was going to make of her life. All four years, she had been running in track, and it had gotten her a scholarship to three different great schools.
The day was surprisingly warm for January. She never liked running in this sort of weather though - it was always too cold and dreary. The snow outside was melting. It was nearly 60 degrees. The sun was hidden behind a patch of grayish clouds. There was a scent of decay around her that she didn't like.
The five-mile run was always pretty easy for her. But the air seemed thick.
What's going on? I don't seem to remember hearing about it being this warm out… and furthermore, what is going on with the color of those clouds? This is creepy.
Still running, Erin realized her shoe was untied. She bent down and began fussing with it, muttering quietly. Stupid shoes… knew I should have… Suddenly, a green streak bounded across the sidewalk. A frog? In the middle of January??? Erin looked at the frog, and a colorless eye winked back before jumping into the grass beside her. Another frog leapt over her still untied shoe.
What is going on here? What's happening? As if to answer, three more frogs darted across the street. Erin moved out of their path. The sky was growing darker quickly. Erin looked up.
Holy macaroni… The sky was spotted and nearly black. Erin was being pelted with what felt like hail. Hail? Realizing with utter shock that there were frogs raining from the sky, she stood up.
"Okay… never thought I'd expect to…" She paused in mid-sentence to prevent a frog from entering her mouth, "see anything like this in Bartlett…" And Erin continued her running, carefully so as not to step on any unfortunate amphibians. This time she didn't head back down Bartlett road to the high school; she ran all the way home. Tuesday, January 15th 2000: New Delhi, India
Dapangi Patel entered the apartments quickly; As usual, it was sweltering in New Delhi. A web technician at the young age of 19, she was smart as a whip and really knew her way around, be it the city streets or lines of her modem. She wiped a drop of sweat off her forehead, and looked out her window. A gust of cool air blew past her face.
"Odd," she thought aloud, "it's hardly ever cool out this time of the year…" Stronger, and with a purpose; the wind blew harder through the small third story window. Dapangi pulled her shawl closer to her. The chill was astonishing; she blinked hard and looked out the window again. Delicate snowflakes with a frosty wind to accompany them had replaced the scorching heat.
Snow? This was something she had never seen before. Of course when she did her web designing, she had used those cute little penguins skating across a virtual pond; but never had she seen actual snow.
Dapangi reached out the window, and caught a handful of the powdery stuff. Delicate, cold and wet, she thought that there could be nothing else like it. She giggled to herself, and tossed it out the window. I'll tend to that later. I have bigger things to attend to right now. Just as she finished that thought, her computer began talking to her.
"You've got mail." Dapangi nodded, and walked over to her laptop. She had been expecting a message for quite some time that afternoon. She paused before getting to her desk. There was a pot of coffee brewing there. Walking past, she sat down at the desk and opened the mail. As she gazed at the attached file, she put her hand to her mouth and gasped. Reading at an amazing 1500 words per minute, she finished the letter and began a reply within five minutes.
To whom it May Concern:
I would be glad to partake in the cracking of this 'code' you speak of. Although I myself do not believe in Jesus being the Son of God, I do believe that he was a prophet and have never tuned out his wise words. I believe that I will be of use in your quest to find answers so long kept hidden. I will help you unlock the secrets of the 'Bible Code.' Please return to me any other information you deem necessary.
Sincerely,
Dapangi Patel, New DelhiTuesday, January 15th 2002: Krakow, Poland
Maruszka Mendokowszki was taking her time preparing the blankets for the harsh nights ahead. It had been particularly cold the past few evenings, and she didn't feel like taking any more chances. Not with all the children. She ran an orphanage out of her own home. This had been the 42nd year she had kept her orphanage up; that wasn't bad - especially for someone in Krakow. Times were hard enough as it was, and living in the midst of a tourist trap surely wasn't the answer. But, as her babsha always told her, "Things are the way they are. What is meant to be is and always will be. Have faith and when the going gets tough, God will get going!!" Maruszka lived by those words. She lived by a lot of things her Grandmother had told her. Leaving a legacy nearly as long as the Danube, it was to be followed. And had been, by Maruszka for the past 50 years.
"Tell us a story, Babsha!" cried Mikael.
"Yes, please! A story!" joined in Grenych. Maruskza sighed, and began her story.
"A long time ago, in a place not so far away, called Bethlehem, there lived a child who had been born in a stable and was destined for life to become king." She smiled as Mikael raised his hand, and then nodded towards him.
"Was he going to be a king like… Arthur?" Mikael smiled. He always would ask questions to catch her off guard. Yet in the five years he had been there, he hadn't succeeded in doing so yet.
"Not quite, Mikael. This was a king of epic proportions. (Mikael winked at her here, and she winked back) His name was Jesus. And he would save all mankind from their sin." Maruszka stitched another seam, and tied a knot, handing another patched blanket to Grenych. "Jesus grew into a strong, but gentle man. He spoke to many, and healed more than any priests had seen in all their years serving their God. When it came down to the time for the people to decide what to do with him, they crucified him." Maruszka glanced up at the crucifix hanging beside the bedpost nearest to her. "But in three days, all his followers rejoiced and his enemies trembled with fear for he had risen again." Grenych smiled at Mikael and then at Maruszka, who handed her the last blanket.
"You always tell us of Lord Jesus. Why don't you tell us about the book of Revelations? Of Christ's second coming? You told Wilhelm!" Mikael pleaded, wrapping himself in the blanket he'd been given.
"Wilhelm is thirteen. You, my boy are nine." Maruszka raised an all-knowing eyebrow at him.
"You better knock it off, Mikael. She's giving you the look." Grenych whispered loudly into his ear. Maruszka heard and smiled inside.
"But Babsha…"
"Maybe tomorrow night, Mikael. Tonight you must rest. There is much work to be done around here, and Grenych is still too young yet. You need your energy, young one. Sleep well." Maruszka tucked in Mikael, and kissed him on the forehead. Such a smart boy. She moved over to the bed lying parallel to Mikael's. In it laid Grenych, whom Maruszka also said a special goodnight to. Despite all the hushed whispers around the orphanage, she could never deny that she always had favorites. But then again, so did her Grandmother; it was probably all right. She turned off the overhead light and walked downstairs to finish the dishes, thanking God for every blessing He had given her.
Tuesday, January 15th 2002: London, England
Todd never feared anything. At least, that was what he always told himself. The boy was always getting himself into some sort of trouble. A sprained wrist here, torn knee ligament there - it was surprising he still held together with the way approached things. As he exited the tavern half drunken, and definitely in no condition to drive, he noticed a man on the street. No different from any other raving lunatic, this man had scruffy-looking shoes, a badly weathered overcoat, pants that were a bit too short for Todd's liking, and a face blackened over time by dirt, grime, and goodness knew what else. But Todd sat down near the man and listened to what this guy had to say. For some reason, he had an overwhelming fascination for the derelict.
"It's coming soon. The end. Watch for the Mark of the Beast - watch for the beast himself. Do not follow him, for he is a false light, and does not care for the welfare of you - only for Babylon and his own power and wealth. He will use you. Do not fall!!" the man glanced down at Todd.
"You, sir - what is your name?" the man looked at Todd with a pull akin to that of Todd's own attraction to the man.
"(Hiccup) Todd," he smiled a drunken smile, and wobbled a bit, still watching the man, who was as keen as ever.
"You are one of them. Do you know that? You will be used in the final plan. You have a pathway made for you, if only you choose to follow it. You will be well rewarded with all the love and mercy of our Savior, Christ, who will come like a thief in the night…" The man turned away from Todd, and began again. Todd reached into his pocket, and pulled out twenty pounds. He shoved them into the strange man's jacket pocket, and began to walk away. "The man is probably as drunk as I am," Todd thought, and giggled softly to himself.
"Todd," looking directly at Todd, the strange man spoke again, quieter, but with an amazing amount of energy, "I am far from drunk. Remember what I have said. Remember it well, my friend, for you will need it. Like a thief, Todd… like a thief."
Todd stared blankly at the man who had long since begun ranting again about 'Armageddon: the last battle' and 'the four horses of the apocalypse'. Seconds seemed like hours. Did I say that aloud? I'm so drunk I don't even remember… Todd blinked and decided a good night's sleep might just help him out. He turned on his heel and was about to walk away. Suddenly, the strange man spoke directly to Todd for the third and last time.
"Todd - Revelations 11:4 through 11:12. Remember me, Todd." The man simply turned his head and began shouting again. Todd heard the man's words echo in his head.
I really need to sleep. However… I might want to read that - I'm curious. Todd walked away, never realizing that was the last time he'd ever be drunk for the rest of his lifetime.
Tuesday, January 15th 2002: Tokyo Japan
Sakura was late again from school. She was probably going to have to listen to yet another lecture before she could have any fun whatsoever. That meant waiting to play her video games, read her Email, or draw any beloved comics. She sighed as she unlocked her door and walked in.
"Grandpa? Are you here?" Sakura peeked around the corner hoping to find Tsutomo making his famous shrimp. But he was sleeping on the couch. "Score!" she whispered to herself. She tiptoed past her grandfather, and the snowy television that was giving off white noise. When she opened the door and was just about to walk in, all the way from the family room, she heard Tsutomo.
"I think not, granddaughter. You're late again. What is your excuse this time?" He laughed, stretching out his back and arms. Sakura dropped her bag in disbelief. She kicked it into her room, and closed the door upon it.
"Well, I…I…Oh geez. I went to the arcade with Ami, and we were playing Samurai Clan Wars," Tsutomo raised an eyebrow, "it was fun while it lasted though…" Her grandfather smiled, and walked nearer to give her a hug.
"I guess it's okay for now, Sakura. We will keep it as our secret, eh?" He smiled. "Now. Let's see if we can't make some of my good old-fashioned shrimp. Sound good?" Sakura smiled.
"I'll find the tempura, grandfather." As Sakura reached up to get the box of tempura, she felt very weak, and perhaps blacked out. Everything was black for quite some time. Where am I? She began walking, but to where, she didn't exactly know.
Suddenly, it got very warm, and Sakura closed her eyes tightly. After opening them again, she found herself in a desert. Before her, she saw a goat. One with a mighty horn between its eyes. It looked like it was charging something, but she couldn't see what. As soon as she began to realize what was occurring, she found herself back in the kitchen, on the floor with Tsutomo fanning her and an ice pack upon her forehead.
"Are you all right? Don't scare me like that anymore. Land sakes, child - I'm only ninety-four. I can't take much more shock than that. Another one of those spells, and you'll have me sprawled out beside you!!" Sakura laughed weakly. That was Tsutomo for you, adding a little levity when things got itchy. Wonder what that one was all about…
Sakura had been having 'visions' like that for the past few months. She didn't know what they referred to, although she did sense that there was something biblical in their nature. She remembered some stories from Sunday school about a man named Daniel, who also had visions. Quite like hers, in fact. So alike that Sakura thought she was having the spells based on Daniel's visions. Although, that was kind of… far-fetched. Then again, wasn't Samurai Clan Wars, too?
Tuesday, January 15th 2002: Kingston, Jamaica
Riley Connery showed no sign of fatigue, if he was tired at all. Having been part of the mission in Kingston for the past four years, he knew his limits, and when he should quit. He wasn't tiring yet. Riley continued to haul the awkward slab of tin up over the hill.
"You know, Liza, I honestly don't know why I'm still here after all these years." His Shih Tzu looked up at him affectionately. The poor dog was dying of the heat this year, and he was forced to clip her coat tremendously short. The small lap dog trotted along with him up the hill. When Riley reached the top, he set down the roof and wiped the sweat off his brow.
"So de man is finally coming to terms wit his exhaushun, is he?" Shaun Marco laughed heartily. One of the strongest men that side of Jamaica, he was a reformed Rastafarian. Still wearing the clumps of coarse hair fashioned into 'dreadlocks,' he picked up the small dog and held it up in the air.
"How is mah little baby? I love you, pretty Liza, dat I do. Shaun loves you, yes he does!" Riley turned back to give Shaun a strange look.
"What's de mattah? A man cannot show signs of affection to a dog? You jes' leave me be, Ol' Riley." Shaun let out another jovial laugh. Riley snickered and picked up the sheet of tin and began walking again.
"You know what Shaun?" Riley started his journey downhill.
"What's dat?"
"I think I've finally gotten used to goat." Riley held back a shudder, remembering the odd taste of goat meat, which he'd never tried before coming to Kingston.
"You lyin' to me, Riley. I been livin' heah fo' my whole life, an' I ain' gotten used to no goat." Shaun laughed again. For such a large man, it was odd to see him laugh in such a manner as he did. Shaun Marco stood at a mighty six feet, seven inches, towering high over Riley's insignificant five feet and three. Liza was on the ground now, growling at something on the path. Riley stopped, never hearing his loyal dog of four years do that.
"What's wrong, Liza?" Riley asked, leaning the tin sheet against a nearby tree. The dog sniffed around the base of the tree, and Shaun bent down low.
"Well, what are dese?" Shaun picked up two very smooth, white stones. Shaun noticed a name on one of them, but for some reason didn't say anything about it. He gave the other to Riley.
Riley began to examine the stone that had writing on it. He realized that Shaun couldn't read it, and that even if Riley wanted to, he probably couldn't read Shaun's. He smiled. "Shaun… I think this is big." Shaun looked at Riley questioningly. The last time Riley said that, half the village ended up in a Frisbee contest last July. "Remember Revelations, Shaun?" Shaun nodded, remembering all too well the prophesying last book in the Bible.
"I remember - Why, I studied it fo' two weeks last summer. I should remember it…" Shaun rubbed his hands over the smooth glasslike surface of the stone.
"The churches - remember Pergamum?" Riley was smiling a mile a minute now, giddy as a schoolboy.
"Yeah; I rememb…" Then it hit Shaun - "… The white stones for de people dat is victorious…"
"…And they have new names inscribed upon them that only they themselves can read…" Shaun and Riley hugged each other, just as the tin sheet slid down the hill. The dog began to bark at it, but no one could stop it.
"Oh well… least I don't have to carry it all the way down now, eh, Shaun?" Shaun belted out another laugh as he fingered the white stone.
Tuesday, January 15th, 2002: Toronto, Canada
Early morning traffic was as bad as ever today. Somehow, Connie left for work, exhausted as she was. Today she was definitely not in the mood for any lip from her workers. Yawning, she made the ordinary left turn she always did at this time. Looking in the mirror she wiped a piece of sleep out of her eye, and murmured to herself.
They call it 'a piece of sleep'… that's kinda funny.
She blinked her eyes again, and sipped her coffee. Glorious coffee, that which makes all else seem insignificant in its light… Yes, she was definitely an addict. She thought about all the W-4 forms she had to send in to Corporate. Sighing, she made a right turn and descended into the dark depths of the underground parking lot. There was a whole lot of work to do, and it seemed like she was the only one to be doing it.
Constance grew up in Columbia, MO; a peaceful city, to say the least. And for most of her life, Connie took on that same attitude. Peaceful, calm… these were words to describe Connie. That is, until she moved to Toronto. She pulled the car into her assigned spot, and thrust the gear into park. She turned the car off, and hopped out on one foot. Her right shoe hadn't even been fully put on. As she squirmed and pushed and tried to force her way into the shoe, she heard a whimper that wasn't her own. She glanced down, tired and still groggy. A child was shivering and had nearly been driven over in the parking space. The child wore next to nothing; and during this time of year that was unacceptable. There was no other word for it. Connie set her briefcase and cup of coffee down on the ground and walked a few steps closer to the child.
"Do you need help?" Connie asked quietly. The child backed farther into the corner, still whimpering.
"I can help you; I promise I won't hurt you." Connie extended her right hand. The child looked at the hand, then back at its own, which was tucked deep inside the shroud that it wore. After nearly a minute of glancing up and back at hands, and Connie's soft persuasions, the child gave Connie its hand.
"There now. I told you you'd be okay. Let's get you to a hospital." She smiled. The child unwrapped part of the shroud from his head. He was completely bald.
Wednesday, January 16th, 2002: Seattle WA, USA
"I just don't get it anymore. I can't understand why I have these spells, and I don't see any reason for me listening to them." John looked around the room suspiciously. There had to be more than just the FBI watching him. They all wanted a piece of the action. They were the black suits; they were the spooks. They scared the living daylights out of Thomas whenever the thought of them crossed his mind. He knew that they were watching him.
Did he have any proof? Of course not. They're too smart to leave behind any evidence of being there. He might as well say he lived in the lost city of Atlantis than have people believe the stories of how the US government is out to get him. His family, which had been perfectly normal (or so he thought) was the last of the people to eventually discontinue conversation with him. As much his family loved him, they began to feel that Johnny was getting dangerous, and quite mentally disturbed. In effect, they decided to send out a memo to the local Institution, which sent out a psychologist to Johnny's home in response…
Two weeks ago, at Johnny's apartment in Seattle:
"So what exactly did they say about him? Is he physically harmful, or is he just a nuisance? What am I supposed to do anyway? Diagnose him? For what? Oh… I see. Alright then." Roger Moore clicked his cell-phone shut, and looked once again from his car, peering through the rain at the address on the house. "The right one, I suppose." With a deep breath and the removal of his keys from the car, he shut the door and walked forward to ring the doorbell. No one answered in the home, which had all its lights on. Inside the flat, John hid behind the closet wall, listening for the car to turn on again and drive away. His hands trembled as the engine revved and the car sped off in the opposite direction. Thomas breathed a sigh of relief, and opened the closet door. "Hopefully he won't come back… I knew they were after me."
He thumbed through the yellow pages once more and found the number for a random travel agency. Should I leave here, and go somewhere far, or just move somewhere that would still be in Seattle… I need to get away. John was still thinking to himself when the secretary answered the phone.
"Fisher Traveling Agency, Find your own private paradise just a few thousand dollars away!" John nodded, reassuring himself he was going to do this.
"Yes, uh… my name is Thom… I mean er… uh… Thourson…. Rob Thourson."
"Yes, sir. Where would you like to go?"
"Anywhere from here… do you take cash?"
"Of course, sir." The secretary tightened her grip on the phone. Another one of those people trying to lose themselves again - This is what she hated about working here at Fisher's. Sad, today's society; everyone hiding from everyone else. Of course, it was absolutely none of her business. Still there was awkward silence.
John continued thinking… I can get to Canada. Then I can still watch over family, and be out of the country. I'll…Yes. Perfect… And Matthew can help.
"Sir?" The secretary was near the point of hanging up.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I'd like a one-way ticket to Toronto, Canada. First Class." The click on the keyboard was present for a second time. John - or should I say Rob, was tapping his fingers nervously on the nightstand next to him.
"That will be $1890.00, if you leave tonight, and $1732.50 if you leave Friday of next week." Rob mulled this over for a moment.
"I'd like to leave Friday, ma'am." Rob said quickly. Amusing, the secretary thought. A man that is hiding from people… and he has MANNERS.
"Alright. When will you be coming in to receive your ticket and pay for it?"
"You can expect me tomorrow morning at precisely 11." Rob smiled and hung up the phone. Hopefully I'm not bugged…Wednesday, January 16th, 2002: Bartlett IL, USA
Erin had just woken up for breakfast. It was her favorite part of the day. She'd pour a glass of orange juice, and eat a bowl of Trix, her favorite cereal. She even used the Michaelangelo bowl that she'd eaten literally pounds of Trix for. However, something was different in Bartlett this morning.The streets of the town she'd grew up in and lived in for the past 18 years were covered with the carcasses of small frogs. Just yesterday she'd been out running for track, and the sky began raining frogs. She ran directly home, hoping she wouldn't kill any froglings underfoot, and if she felt a squish, she said a quick prayer.
Such a sweet girl was she, always caring for the good health and fortune of others, and hardly ever herself. She was dedicated to her running, her tennis, and her anime. Like every other teenager, she had a best friend that she'd definitely always stay with. And so far, all attempts to contact Andrew had failed. The telephone lines were down, and there was no way she'd venture out into the sidestreets littered with green and brown death.
Her parents were away visiting sick relatives in Wisconsin, and she
couldn't find the number. I'm going insane… and there isn't anyway I can leave the house without killing frogs. This is not cool. Not cool at all. Erin figured there was nothing else to do, so she fixed breakfast for her brother Chris, and smiled at the thought of Chris waking to see millions of dead frogs in the yard. It was sad, and sickening, but at the same time, off in her mind, just a little bit amusing.
"CHRIS! This is the last time!!! If you don't come downstairs right now, I'm going to eat these eggs myself, boy!" Erin thought that would be a good idea, if she weren't full. Chris came thundering down the stairs. A sophomore at Bartlett High, an annoying little brother, and an avid gamer, Chris enjoyed living with his family at home. His father Kevin would sometimes kid Chris about living at the house until Chris himself bore grey hairs in a beard that hadn't yet begun to grow.
He seated himself at the small counter for two in the kitchen, and looked at Erin.
"Erin?"
"Nani?"
"…Stop talking Japanese… Why are there piles of frogs outside?"
"I don't really know… I can't call Mom and Dad, and…"
"Have you tried watching the news?" Erin paused. The idea had never entered her mind. Then, blushing fiercely, she put the eggs on his plate while answering.
"Well, no… not really." Chris rolled his eyes, shook his head, and turned the TV on.
*…There have been numerous reports of 'raining frogs' in Cook, DuPage, and Kane counties. No one knows yet why this has happened, but authorities claim to be working on it as we speak. Any further news will be reported at a la…*
Chris clicked off the TV and sat back down to eat his eggs.
"They know about as much as we do." Chris stared at his plate, deciding there was nothing else to say about the matter… then his face lit up… there was something else to say. "At least we get school off!!" Chris dug into his breakfast as Erin wondered back upstairs. Maybe there was something good about this after all… A day off school. She had been getting tired. Finals lay just ahead. What Erin didn't know is that in a matter of months, school and those finals probably wouldn't matter.
...STAY TUNED... and write to me: Mustapha_Mond2002@yahoo.com
