In all your dreams this past month your grandparents have told you to head to the crossroads just past Lucy's Creek and wait there or stay in town and die with all the others. In each dream you were allowed one question and you could only ask each question once so you spent your dreaming hours taking in every detail you could think of and trying to find loopholes to save everybody.
There weren't any.
Preacher Angus says the Lord works in mysterious ways but He's sent your grandparents to demystify the whole ordeal He wants you to go through without giving you a damn reason to do it other than to carry on living. It sure sounded painful to just let the whole town die but He sends us all our tasks.
And yours was survival.
The sole member of that particular flock of His, sent way out in the southern desert to wait like Jesus while damnation is wrought upon all you knew and loved. Your grandparents assured you that you'd join them in the afterlife beyond those pearly gates for your sacrifice and you believed them.
When they gave you the deadline, your heart felt heavier than ever before and bleaker still.
You told nobody where you were going, left before dawn just to make sure you wouldn't be followed. You crossed Lucy's Creek, desperately trying to ignore the rotting corpses of the wildlife all around you, the waters flowing muddy red with blood both old and new. You came to the crossroads, surrounded by desert and dust and sat down to await your salvation as the screams of your beloved, damned kin carried through the winds and long into the night.
Sleep still hasn't come to you - at this point you fear it might never - but when it does, they'll all be waiting.
There weren't any.
Preacher Angus says the Lord works in mysterious ways but He's sent your grandparents to demystify the whole ordeal He wants you to go through without giving you a damn reason to do it other than to carry on living. It sure sounded painful to just let the whole town die but He sends us all our tasks.
And yours was survival.
The sole member of that particular flock of His, sent way out in the southern desert to wait like Jesus while damnation is wrought upon all you knew and loved. Your grandparents assured you that you'd join them in the afterlife beyond those pearly gates for your sacrifice and you believed them.
When they gave you the deadline, your heart felt heavier than ever before and bleaker still.
You told nobody where you were going, left before dawn just to make sure you wouldn't be followed. You crossed Lucy's Creek, desperately trying to ignore the rotting corpses of the wildlife all around you, the waters flowing muddy red with blood both old and new. You came to the crossroads, surrounded by desert and dust and sat down to await your salvation as the screams of your beloved, damned kin carried through the winds and long into the night.
Sleep still hasn't come to you - at this point you fear it might never - but when it does, they'll all be waiting.
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