The End of the World
Most people she met told Janet Lindsey how lucky she was to be a freelance writer and have a career that allowed her to work out of her home. It was true that there were many advantages to such employment. For instance, when her three children were still small, there had been no need to spend a significant part of her income on hiring babysitters or enrolling them in daycare. Janet could work full-time hours and still be home in case her children needed her.
There were other benefits, as well. Janet had no long commute every day and thus saved quite a bit of money on gasoline and tolls, not to mention putting less wear and tear on her old Toyota Celica. Nor did she need to spend money on clothing and shoes suitable to wear to an office; comfortable jeans, T-shirts, sneakers and sandals were the staples of her dress code.
More importantly, given her flexible schedule, she could make doctors' and dentists' appointments, meet with her children's schoolteachers and guidance counsellors, go to the bank or department of motor vehicles and do her grocery shopping during normal working hours.
The only drawback to working at home that the writer had ever encountered was the seemingly never-ending phone solicitations she received from banks, credit card companies, long-distance telephone service providers, shopping services and contractors who wanted to replace her windows or add a deck onto her house. There were days when Janet received as many as seven or eight calls from telemarketers offering her low-interest credit cards, mortgage refinancing and home equity loans or trying to interest her in storm windows, magazines and life insurance. In short, over the years, these annoying salespeople had offered to sell her everything except the proverbial Brooklyn Bridge.
Then there were the local and national charities. As worthy as these causes were, there was a limit to how much money the single, working mother could afford to give. While she was always willing to donate to the Make-A-Wish Foundation, St. Jude Children's Hospital, Special Olympics and the county's no-kill animal shelter, she often had to politely refuse to contribute to the State Troopers' Education Fund and the high school marching band's efforts to buy new uniforms.
These daily interruptions eventually plagued Janet to the point where she had to install an answering machine for the sole purpose of screening her incoming calls.
On the other hand, the freelance writer was not harassed by the occasional door-to-door salesperson or other individuals who stopped by her house. She didn't mind the UPS or FedEx drivers who sometimes left packages with her when her neighbors were not at home. Such people did not present much of a disturbance since they were more often than not in a rush to move on to their next delivery.
Every once in a while, since she was frequently the only person in the neighborhood who was at home on a weekday, repairmen or delivery persons, unable to locate a certain address, would ring her bell and ask for directions. Unlike telemarketers, these individuals did not bother her much. In fact, she was often glad to help.
Thus, when the unknown young woman first showed up on her doorstep, Janet was, as usual, friendly and courteous. Her initial impression of the girl was that she appeared to be the epitome of sweetness and innocence. Standing on the top step in her simple, modest black cotton dress, hugging her Bible to her bosom, the waif gave the impression of one whose soul had found utter peace and tranquility. Her wide, doe-like eyes and serene smile were completely devoid of eye makeup and lipstick. The writer was not surprised, therefore, when the girl told her she was representing the Church of Holy Crusaders.
"Do you fear the end of the world?" the young woman asked with such sincere concern that Janet was not sure how to respond.
How was she to tell someone who appeared to have unquestioning faith in both God and the Bible that she herself was completely lacking in that commodity?
The Holy Crusader, encouraged by Janet's not shutting the door in her face as so many others had, went on with her speech.
"If so, you need not worry anymore. The good book," she claimed, holding up her Bible, "shows us the way to redemption and eternal life."
Janet, slightly embarrassed by the girl's religious zeal, tried to think of a gracious way to extricate herself from the uncomfortable situation. She also felt a bit ridiculous standing behind the locked screen door—as was her custom when greeting strangers. After all, the petite young woman, who was not much taller than Janet's ten-year-old daughter, hardly posed much of a threat.
"If you have a few minutes, ma'am, I'd like to share with you what is in this book," the Holy Crusader continued. "It contains the solution to all of life's problems and tribulations. No matter what troubles your soul, you will find peace between its covers."
The young woman then smiled with such rapture that Janet would not have been surprised to learn that she was having a religious epiphany.
"I'm sorry," the writer apologized, "but I work at home, and I'm right in the middle of something important."
"All I ask is a few moments of your time," the girl pleaded. "It won't take long. I promise."
The stranger was beginning to sound a little like a vacuum cleaner salesman trying to get his foot in the door.
"I'm sorry, but ...."
Mercifully, the telephone rang in the kitchen.
"That must be the call I've been expecting," she lied. "I've really got to go now. Perhaps some other time."
Janet quickly shut and locked the front door and hurried in the direction of the kitchen. She had been so relieved to be rid of the proselytizing stranger that she picked up the telephone herself rather than let her machine answer.
"No, thank you," she said after a few minutes of listening courteously to the saleswoman. "I'm not interested in changing my long-distance phone service right now."
As she hung up the receiver on its cradle, Janet fervently hoped that if the end of the world was ever truly at hand, telemarketers would be the first people to go.
* * *
The persistent young woman representing the Church of Holy Crusaders returned the following day. Janet had not expected her to show up again quite so soon.
I have to give her credit for one thing, Janet thought with amusement. She certainly is an eager beaver.
"Are you ready to embrace the light?" the girl asked, not bothering with anything as mundane as "Hello. How are you?"
The writer stared at her with uncertainty. Should she invite the girl inside? If she did, would she be able to get rid of her? Or would Janet's polite gesture and feigned interest only encourage the Holy Crusader to come back again and again?
"There is no need for those who believe in God to fear the end of the world," the young woman declared confidently.
Janet wondered just how many people actually sat around worrying about the arrival of Armageddon. Sure, there were those individuals in the Fifties and Sixties who feared nuclear war was inevitable and built bomb shelters in their cellars and backyards. Also, there were a large number of people who held their breath at 11:59 on December 31, 1999, fearing the dreaded Y2K bug would cause death and destruction on a massive scale.
But did anyone honestly believe that falling on their knees and clasping their hands in prayer would make much of a difference? Obviously, the Holy Crusader on her doorstep did. Although she hated to admit it—even to herself—Janet believed that in the event of such an apocalyptic situation, prayers would probably do about as much good as wishing on a falling star, on a four-leaf clover or on a turkey's broken breastbone.
The young woman reached for the handle of the screen door and was surprised to discover it was locked.
"Do you think you can hide behind locked doors? You can't shut out evil!"
The girl's cheeks reddened, and her eyes burned with religious fervor.
"There's still time," she urged. "Let me in. The book will bring you salvation."
Her single-minded persistence made Janet feel uneasy.
"I'm sorry. I'd love to talk to you, but I have too much work ...."
The young woman rudely cut her off in mid-sentence.
"You fool!" she exclaimed. "Do you imagine that by burying your head in the sand you can escape His final judgment?"
Janet had had just about enough of the girl's fire-and-brimstone preaching. After all, if she were seeking redemption or absolution, there were numerous local churches to which she could go. She would certainly have more faith in an ordained priest, minister or rabbi than she would in a young door-to-door salvation peddler.
"I'm sorry, but I do have to go now," she said firmly, closing the door behind her.
Then she watched from behind a crack in the window curtain until the girl finally descended the steps and went away.
For the next several weeks, the representative from the Church of Holy Crusaders showed up every day, hoping to save Janet's unrepentant soul. Each day, the writer sat quietly in her combination den and home office, pretending she was not home. Eventually, the young woman must have taken the hint because her visits stopped.
* * *
With her answering machine faithfully handling her bothersome telephone calls and the cessation of the Holy Crusader's missionary zeal to redeem her soul, Janet was finally able to get a good deal of writing done. She spent many uninterrupted hours in front of her computer churning out several articles that she would submit to her editor and, hopefully, get published.
Then one day, Donny, her oldest child, stayed home from school with chicken pox. He lay on the couch watching television while Janet was in the den working. Not long after he had finished his lunch, Donny walked into the den and told his mother that there was a woman outside waiting to speak to her. Reluctantly, she left her desk and went to answer the front door.
"Why do you continually attempt to shut me out?" the overzealous young woman demanded to know. "I come here only to help you, and this is how you treat me?"
The Holy Crusader clutched her Bible so fiercely that Janet began to wonder if she might be emotionally disturbed.
"Forgive me, but my son is home sick today, and I have a lot of work to do. I don't have the time to chat with you."
"You dare refuse deliverance! I have come here to release your soul from earthly bondage and a certain sentence to purgatory, and you send me away. You will surely burn in hell."
"That's enough! I want you to leave, and don't come back again."
Janet slammed the door and leaned against it, trembling. She sincerely hoped that after that unpleasant scene, the young religious fanatic would go seek out a less reluctant soul to save and leave her alone.
* * *
It was the first day of summer vacation. The two older children had gone to the movies with their friends, and the youngest, Willow, was playing on the swings in the backyard. Janet kept an eye on her through the window in the den. As usual, Willow would be in and out of the house all day. So, when Janet heard the front door open and close, she assumed her daughter had come in either to get a drink of water or to use the bathroom. Yet when Janet looked out the window, she saw that Willow was still riding on the glider.
Suddenly, the startled mother heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the hardwood floor of the foyer. Her heart racing, she got up from her desk, left the den and tiptoed down the hall. There in the living room, fiercely clutching her Bible in her hands, stood the young woman from the Church of Holy Crusaders.
"Get out of my house, or I'll call the police," the harassed writer threatened.
The girl stared at the homeowner. Her face was no longer angelic but insanely intense. Janet imagined that the members of the Spanish Inquisition or the afflicted girls who testified at Salem's witchcraft trials must have worn that same expression.
The girl held her Bible in front of her like an offering.
"It's time," she announced.
She opened the book and smiled, closing her eyes and lifting her face to heaven.
"I've come to deliver you from evil."
She then put her hand into the book and withdrew a long, sharp knife.
"The end of the world has come at last."
The fanatical woman then lunged at Janet. The flashing knife ripped the sleeve of Janet's blouse and left a long gash in her upper arm. The injured writer made no attempt to run or even to scream. All she could do was try to defend herself as best she could.
The two women fell to the floor and wrestled, each desperately trying to gain possession of the knife. Although the young woman was much smaller, she had the strength often attributed to the insane, and Janet was already feeling a loss of strength in her wounded arm.
"Don't resist; give in," the crazed zealot begged. "I can save you. And after I've saved you, I'll save your daughter. I'll suffer all the little children to come unto me."
Janet's heart lurched. Willow was in danger!
Love for her daughter and fear for the little girl's safety gave the terrified mother the strength she needed to overcome her dangerous assailant. She managed to slam the girl's head on the floor, dazing her temporarily. Then the protective mother finally managed to wrench the knife from her attacker's hand.
Recovering her wits, the young woman screamed at Janet, "Give me that knife!"
Janet obliged by plunging it into her attacker's chest.
The young woman from the Church of the Holy Crusaders, her doe-like eyes wide open in a vacuous stare, no longer had to fear the end of the world. For her, it had already come.
Janet stood up, her arm throbbing with pain.
"You were right after all," she said to the dead girl, putting the bloodstained knife back into the hollowed-out Bible. "What was in this book really did have the power to save me."
Another advantage to working at home is that you can feed your cat whenever he is hungry.(That, in itself, is a full-time job.)
