THERE IS NO… GOD
“Are we all in agreement, then?” the one called Adam asked.
“I am,” the one called Cain said.
“I am as well,” the one called Abel said.
“The final, corrupt world leader has taken control of the greatest of Earth’s nations. It is only a matter of months, or perhaps hours, until the fatal decision is made setting earth on a disastrous course to perdition,” Adam said.
“It has not all been bad,” Eve said. “There have been many shining and glorious moments over the centuries.”
“True,” Adam readily agreed. “We can all recollect many fine civilizations and individuals. Some remarkable accomplishments and discoveries. Surprises and disappointments.”
“But always two steps forward—”
“And one step back,” Cain finished for Abel.
Adam added, “Even though we created them in our own image, then gave them the ability for diversification, evolution, the power of choice and reasoning, the corruptive—dare I say—evilness has won out in the end.”
“It is a pity, as the majority of humans desire happiness and contentment,” Eve said, shaking her head in regret.
“Then that is what they should have fought for,” Cain rejoined.
“I agree with you, Cain. But happiness was not enough for everyone. Some strove for more.” Adam walked around the large room, taking in the floating screens surrounding it. “The past century had the most advances in so many ways. Technology alone advanced tenfold. But not humanity, or goodness, generosity, altruism, love of fellow man or woman.” He looked to Eve, sadness in his golden eyes.
Eve gave him a sad smile. “Yes, these past decades have shown us how selfish humans can be, how disconnected everyone has become with the advanced technology, each generation becoming more insular and uncaring. For so many, the Bible that we gave them has been forgotten or discounted.”
“They will remember it now,” Cain said, sad bitterness evident in his tone, hinting at the impending doom. “The Book of Revelation may have been somewhat hyperbolic, but its overall intent is true.”
“Armageddon, the end of days, the Apocalypse,” Abel muttered.
“It has finally come to this. Even your return, Cain, as the Christ, would not have enough of an effect. We have been given no choice.” Adam’s voice carried the solemnity of its meaning.
“But,” Eve said, “we have agreed to uphold the final chapters of Revelation and to begin anew.”
Adam nodded. “We have.” Abel and Cain gave their silent assent.
Abel stood. “Yet we have not decided who the two will be—the next ‘Adam and Eve.’”
“It will become apparent, I trust,” Adam said. “Each of us has his tasks as the four horsemen.”
They looked at one another. Determination came into each of their eyes.
Adam turned to Abel. “The Black Horse first. Pestilence.”
“Let the Apocalypse begin.”
***
Curtis Ralyea stared at the General Assembly and could not believe the words he had just heard. As ambassador to France, he had recently been having a difficult time—and that was putting it mildly. The Charlie Hebdo massacre had started the reign of terror in the country. And terrorist attacks had escalated from there. More and more fatalities each time. As ambassador, he had tried to reassure the French President that the new American president would be much more protective and offensive toward terrorists than the one from the former regime. And he had hoped it would be so.
But it hadn’t been so. The new president was offensive all right. He had offended nearly every nation in the world—at least all but those who wanted something from him or could benefit in some way.
As a child, Curtis had always tried to do the right thing, help people. When he got older, he saw the situation of the planet and wanted to help bring about peace. He had no delusions that he could do it alone, but he wanted to be part of the effort to make it happen.
He had studied hard: world history, politics, socioeconomics, languages. He spoke seven languages fluently: Mandarin, Arabic and Swahili, and had a command of four others. He had met all the right people, and all of that combined with his blond hair, blue eyes, square jaw, and a fit, but not overly muscular, physique had helped to make him the youngest US ambassador ever (at twenty-four and by three months) over Edward Rumsey Wing, the 1869 Minister to Ecuador. Now, at thirty-two, it had come to an end.
His ambition and hard work had paid off professionally, but personally, he was less than successful. He knew a multitude of people, but as for friends—let alone a girlfriend or boyfriend (he hadn’t felt a strong inclination either way)—he had none. Yes, he could say it unequivocally: he had no friends. He liked people, but they usually disappointed him—make that they always disappointed him. He could always read the lust in men’s and women’s eyes: for his looks, his position. Just once, he wanted someone to see past the exterior, the superficial, to see him for who he was.
Perhaps he expected too much. The world had gotten too fast, too impersonal. It was all about immediate self-gratification. Thanks to technology, that had become simple.
Was he becoming cynical? He hoped not. He didn’t want to be. He did believe in the essential goodness of man. His parents had been good people. He was sure there were others out there as well. His parents’ generation had been more considerate, more patient, more optimistic. His generation, less so. And the one after—the millennials—the less said, the better.
Still, he would not give up hope, even if sometimes he felt like Diogenes looking for an honest man.
He listened to the Secretary General, try to quell the outrage in the vast hall—the protestations, the outright yelling. He noticed the quiet acceptance of some, and the smug, almost victorious countenances of the knowing few. He took it all in. His stomach lurched. He fought to keep the bile down. Could this really be happening?
The United Nations was no longer?
Was this the beginning of the End of Days?
***
Gatsby Langdon was Australian by birth, American by choice, cynical by nature. At 6’4” and weighing a solid 250 pounds, with dark hair and almost coal-black eyes, he was an imposing figure. He had invested wisely in real estate, and had seen the handwriting on the wall several years ago, in time to sell—and sell big. For all intents and purposes, at thirty-five, he was retired in his semi-opulent apartment overlooking Central Park and the Upper West Side. He could live well and do as he pleased, go where he wanted, be with most anyone he wanted. But in spite of all his ostensible cynicism, he held on to the smallest sort of optimism.
He’d come from a well-to-do family, never wanting for anything. He’d come to America when he was four. He had no “Strail” accent—unless he wanted one. Sometimes it was fun to turn it on, and men thought it was sexy… women too, but he didn’t care. What he did care about was finding someone to love and love him in return. Clichéd, but true. But where? Granted he wasn’t a barfly or a party-type guy, but he would have thought that in his business transactions and meetings over the years he would have found someone… but he hadn’t even come close. Except for… except for the fact that he was a priest! Father Gordon. Father Rick, really. That’s what Gatsby had called him. Father Rick had taught him about goodness, and faith, and hope. And if he really had to admit it, he wasn’t a cynic by nature. Rick had taught him that too. Also, the belief that man is inherently good, and to believe in himself. And it had rung true to him.
After Father Rick had moved on, hopefully to greener pastures than the craziness of New York, Gatsby began to champion worthwhile causes and campaign for equal rights.
He stopped his woolgathering and his eyes focused on his wall screen in front of him: CNN BREAKING NEWS. He turned up the volume.
“By a two-thirds vote, the United Nations has been abolished.” The commentator paused, as if not believing what his monitor was revealing.
“What?” Gatsby yelled aloud. “This is insanity!”
He sat in front of the television for the next couple of hours, listening, uncomprehending… crying.
“Father Rick, where are you now? Where is God now? Is this the beginning of the end?” Gatsby asked to the heavens.
There was no response.
***
Anna Wycoff awoke and stretched. This is going to be a good day, she thought, and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.
She could not have been more wrong.
Anna left her apartment building and stepped out onto West 30th Street.
It was May 1. The sun was shining, and she was starting her new job at the United Nations. Well, not actually at the UN, but working as personal assistant to Curtis Ralyea, the incredibly handsome ambassador to France.
Her job would require her to travel with him, and she loved to travel. There was an important meeting today at the UN of the General Assembly. All were required to attend, as an impending announcement was to be made. She was still trying to remember the pronunciation of the Secretary General’s name. For some reason, she kept reversing letters. Maybe she could call him by his first name. She smiled to herself. And maybe she’d never even get to meet him. Ah well, the important name to her was Curtis Ralyea, her boss.
Her father, being very well connected, had gotten her the interview. She had studied hard and had graduated top of her class from Vassar. She spoke fluent French and had studied abroad for a year and a half. She had the knowledge and the skills, now she needed to put them into practice.
She approached the magnificent on East 42nd Street and First Avenue. God, she loved New York, and this awe-inspiring building especially. She never tired of looking up and seeing all the flags waving in the breeze: Europe, Asia, South America, Africa… the whole world unified… joined together in one place.
She let out a deep sigh of pleasure.
And now she was part of it. Making the world a better and more peaceful place. She knew if she said her thoughts aloud they would come off as grandiose or pompous, or deluded, but it was how she felt. World peace was her goal.
She wasn’t sure how long the meeting was to last today, but she didn’t care. She would spend her time walking around, exploring, admiring, getting accustomed to the place, and thanking God that she was now a part of this world.
She had gotten her clearance, credentials, and badge and was free to “explore.” Curtis had told her she was welcome to sit at the back of the Assembly and could listen to what the various world ambassadors had to say. There were earbuds available so that she could listen, and the different languages would be translated for her.
With earbuds firmly in place, she entered the massive hall.
From the back of the hall, she looked around, trying to spot her boss. She scanned the ambassadors, some dressed in their native garb, all seeming to be slightly energized. Had she missed something? Most were engaged in animated conversations with one or more of their fellow ambassadors. Then the Secretary General arrived at the podium. Everyone took their seats and an eerie hush came over the Assembly. Yet the electricity in the air remained.
The Secretary General began to speak in his accented English. His tone was the most solemn she had ever heard.
Anna listened, stupefied. She heard the words issue forth, her ears hearing, her mind unbelieving.
It couldn’t be!
Her life. The UN. The world. The future. Was it all over?
***
Curtis filed out of the Assembly. Numb. His fellow ambassadors—well, not anymore—they were all just men and women now. No more ambassadors. No more embassies. What would he do now? Oh, my God! What would the world do now? There were too many despots and oligarchs in power, each wanting to be its own entity, thinking they could fight terrorism on their own and be independent from the rest of the world. That they didn’t need the help and support of other nations. What were they thinking? Delusional. This was more than a disaster. It was a global catastrophe!
He heard a faint voice. “Mr. Ralyea? Mr. Ralyea!” He looked to the left. Up against the wall, through the crowd, he could see her. The face familiar. He tried to recall… Anna! His new assistant. He remembered; he was to meet her after the assembly. She looked… forlorn. Lost.
He worked his way through the sea of people. “Anna.”
She threw herself into his arms. His natural instinct was to embrace her. He did. He felt her body trembling, shoulders heaving.
“Mr. Ralyea… Curtis… what’s happening?” she mumbled into his chest between sobs.
“I’m not sure, Anna. Everything will be all right.”
All right? Who was he kidding? Everything would never be all right again.
He had to get them out of the melee. “Come with me.” He took her hand and led her forcefully through the crowd. He could hear the multitude now, the cacophony deafening. Shouts. Crying. It was chaos.
Chaos.
The world was chaos.
***
Gatsby walked into the small innocuous bar on Second Avenue. It was dark. A handful of people was all he could see. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. It shouldn’t be packed. He went to the bar.
“Hey, Gatsby, how ya been? Haven’t seen you for a while. Lookin’ good, as always.”
“Busy. How’ve you been, Cory? Double Johnny Black and soda, please.”
“You know me. Work. Gym. I might compete.” Cory brought his arms up and posed, flexing his over-large biceps in his one-size-too-small T-shirt.
“You’ve got the guns. Good luck.” Gatsby grabbed his drink from the bar, handed Cory a credit card. “Run a tab.”
“You got it, my man. Any time you wanna hit the gym with me, or whatever… You still got my number, right?”
“I do.”
“Sweet.” He leaned over the bar. “Love to see ya again.”
One drunken night.
“Me too. I’ve got to do a little work now,” Gatsby said. He pulled out his phone, indicating working on it, and wandered off to the far corner of the bar where he saw a vacant booth with no one else around. He needed to think.
“Gotcha, Gatsby. I’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”
Gatsby noticed the other four male patrons were all at the bar. Two of them were enrapt in the BREAKING NEWS about the UN folding displayed on the television behind the bar. The other two were enrapt in each other.
As Gatsby sat, he heard the door open. He turned and saw a pretty woman and a very good-looking man walk in. He took in the fit form of the man and wondered if they were a couple. It seemed a little odd for them to be here—in the middle of the afternoon—like he was. Both were well-dressed. A business lunch? In a gay bar? He turned back in his booth and slid all the way in, his back to the room. The tall, wooden booths were just high enough to hide him from view.
He felt his booth move slightly and realized the couple had sat right behind him.
“…was a good choice.” He heard the woman say.
“Please, call me Curtis,” the man said. “I have a couple of friends who like this place. Pleasant and low-key. You can have a conversation here. Anna, we need to figure out the future. The announcement—or rather pronouncement—by the Secretary General is cataclysmic.”
Interesting, Gatsby thought. Who are these two? He took a sip, then realized he was empty. He got out of the booth. When he stood, the two stopped talking. His eyes met Curtis’s and he smiled. Curtis returned the smile.
Over the next hour and half, and three more Johnny Blacks and sodas, Gatsby listened—eavesdropped would be more appropriate, he guessed—to the two and began to plan his future while the couple discussed the “fate of the world.”
His “liquid courage” finally spurred him to say something. He stood. “Excuse me, I’m sorry for interrupting. My name is Gatsby Langdon. I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, I know—”
“I thought I recognized you,” Anna cut him off. “You’re the real estate tycoon.”
Gatsby smiled at her. “Guilty. As I said, I couldn’t help overhearing you discussing today’s disaster at the UN. I know many influential people in politics and I have not even heard a whisper of this happening.”
Gatsby could see Curtis sizing him up, deciding whether to speak.
And before he did, Anna broke in again, “My name is Anna Wycoff. This is Curtis Ralyea. This is—was—my first day on the job for Curtis. I was to be his personal assistant. How do you think I feel?” She knocked back the last third of what appeared to be a martini. “Oh, my God,” she said. “That sounded so selfish. I’m not like that. Really. It’s the liquor. I’m a nice person. I am. I am so mortified. Forgive me?”
Gatsby gave a laugh, in spite of the situation. “Nothing to forgive,” he said to the back of Anna’s head, which was now face down on the table.
She raised it and looked at him. “Thank you for being so gracious. Curtis, I’m sorry. Well, if I hadn’t already lost my job, I guess that would have done it.”
Now Curtis laughed out loud. Gatsby noted he looked even more handsome when he smiled.
The ice seemed to be broken now, and Curtis, after wiping his eyes, said, “Anna, you’re not fired and you still have a job as my assistant. I will, perhaps, need you more than ever.” Anna gave a weak smile. “And you, Mr. Langdon—”
“Gatsby.”
“—Gatsby, would you care to join us?”
“Thank you, Curtis. I would.” He slid into the booth next to Anna. As he did, he motioned to Cory to bring another round.
***
Several hours and several drinks later, the three were still in deep discussion. The bar had gotten appreciably more crowded as the evening arrived. They had ignored all around them.
“We know North Korea is a smoldering volcano. China has its own agenda. As does Israel. Russia with the new Cold War that seems to be heating up. Our president is a loose cannon. Even England wants to keep things close to the vest.
The men nodded.
Anna continued, “And none of these so-called leaders are willing to recognize the truly evil force in the Mideast. The terrorists and their puppets will destroy all that is good.”
Curtis joined in. “Their sphere of influence is vast. Nowhere is safe from them. I’ve been over there and seen their unspeakable power firsthand.” He blocked a memory of torture and beheading from his mind. “Europe has never been more divided. They are all running scared, doing nothing, waiting for the next shooting, or explosion, or bombing to happen.” He took a long drink, catching the eye of the unnervingly handsome and charismatic man across from him. He would be a fool to deny there was a definite attraction on both their parts. Yet there was also an underlying sexual vibe from Anna as well. The whole situation was preposterous. A giant anachronism amid global crisis.
The three glanced around, now, as the decibel level had risen. Every eye was glued to the four televisions over the bar. All the men—and the smattering of women—seemed to be huddled close together. One mass. Then Curtis began to notice the faces. Some were crying openly. Others had their faces buried in their partners’ chests. Still others only stared, mouths agape.
Curtis looked at the nearest screen and saw BREAKING NEWS: Widespread outbreak spreading across Asia into Europe.
The images flashed over the screen: Hospitals flooded with mobs of people, people in the streets literally dropping like flies. Curtis heard someone say, “Turn it up.”
The crowd grew eerily silent and the reporter’s voice issued from the screen:
“…plague of epic proportions has swept across Asia, leaving hundreds of thousands, possibly millions, dead. The source of the outbreak is as of yet unknown, as is the actual nature of this rampant, impossibly-fast-spreading disease. People in all Asian and European nations have been ordered to stay inside and avoid contact with anyone outside their homes. It has not been determined if the disease is airborne or not. The CDC and other global disease centers will be working around the clock to bring us information. Travel has been suspended to and from the affected countries, but all travel has been highly discouraged at this point. This all coming on the heels of today’s announcement abolishing the United Nations…”
“Oh, my God!” Anna said and covered her mouth in horror. With her other hand she clutched Gatsby’s arm. “What is happening to the planet?”
Gatsby spoke, “We need to leave. Now. My apartment is close. We’ll be safe there.”
“Safe?” Anna asked. “Safe from what?”
“I-I-” Gatsby stuttered. “I don’t know why I said that. It just came out. But—”
“You’re right. We need to go,” Curtis said and got up, a little unsteadily, from the booth. In spite of all the liquor he’d consumed, his mind was surprisingly clear. The dire pronouncements must have sobered him. He looked at Gatsby, who also appeared to have sobered fast. He was adroitly helping Anna from the booth, snatching up her purse and slinging it over her shoulder.
The crowd paid no attention as they made their way to the door. “Wait outside. I’ll close out,” Gatsby said, wending his way to the bar.
They stepped out into the warm spring night, but Curtis still felt chilled to his bones. Gatsby joined them. “This way,” he said. “My car and driver are over here to the left.”
Curtis noticed the sleek black limo and wondered when Gatsby had called… or if he’d been there all the time. In any case, he was grateful they were able to escape so rapidly and easily.
The silent driver held the door open for the three and they climbed in.
***
It had been a week since the outbreak. And “outbreak” had been a massive understatement. Hundreds of millions, possibly billions, had died worldwide—intense headaches, leading to bleeding from facial orifices, followed by brain aneurysms.
Not pretty.
The areas most affected were the third-world countries, where tribes and groups were completely obliterated, seemingly based on proximity to one another… almost as if it were planned.
***
“Abel, your planned attack was quite successful, having eliminated the masses of underprivileged and largely unthought-of population,” Adam said.
Abel nodded, his face grim. Cain and Eve held his hands, knowing how difficult it had been for him, while at the same time dreading their own ineluctable “rides.”
Adam approached Abel and kissed him lightly on the mouth. “It had to be done.”
“I know,” Abel replied softly, then rose and embraced Adam, kissing him again. “Thank you.”
Cain and Eve’s eyes held tears of compassion. They silently reached for one another. Cain spoke after several moments had passed. “War is fomenting worldwide, as we knew it would. The stronger nations are using the pestilential devastation to their advantage, to prey on the weakened states and overtake them.”
“You must prevent them from using nuclear tactics, Cain,” Eve admonished, squeezing his hand hard. “We do not want them to destroy our planet.”
“I have prepared for this, Eve.” He squeezed back.
“Then,” Adam said, “it is the time for the ride of the Red Horse.”
***
“We’ve been here for weeks,” Anna said. “So many nations annihilated… I don’t see how we can ever recover from this. And now with wars breaking out everywhere…” Her tears flowed.
Gatsby had his arm around her and let her sob, get it out. The three of them had shared many a tear over the last weeks. Curtis and he had used their contacts to see if they could learn where the outbreak had come from or who had caused it. No one knew.
What they did discover, though, was that Russia, China, North Korea, the Mideast (Israel and Iran, largely), and the United States had planned to use the plague to their own purposes. They were all gathering their arms and forces to, well, conquer what was left of the world.
Curtis spoke, “The Mideast will be the biggest massacre of all, you both realize. Israel thinks they’ll win; Iran thinks they will. The Saudis think they will… and what about the terrorist contingent? They’re everywhere. Those sneaky, suicidal bastards will just infiltrate them all, as they already have, and wipe them out from within. I mean, why do they care? Kill ’em all! They’re going to heaven with two thousand virgins, or whatever!”
“Curtis, please, calm down. It hasn’t happened yet. Come here.”
Curtis got up from the chair, opposite the large, brown leather sofa where Gatsby sat with Anna. Gatsby had an inviting arm open to him and he sat within it. Gatsby hugged him close.
“My dear friend, you are such a good man… You are both good people.”
Anna sniffled.
Curtis choked out a “right.”
Gatsby continued, “You are. Don’t forget that. When the world returns from its insanity and everything settles we will…” He stopped, and started to chuckle. Curtis and Anna looked up at him.
When Gatsby had their full attention, he sang in a decent baritone, “We’ll pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and start all over again…”
They both stared at him as if he’d lost his mind.
“What?” he said off their looks. “You know I’m gay. I like musicals. And I thought we could use some levity in this…” He lowered his voice. “…darkest of times.”
They both still stared until, at last, Curtis cracked a smile, followed by Anna. Then both broke out into full-throated laughter. Gatsby joined them.
Curtis, drying his eyes, recovered first. “If we can still laugh, maybe there is hope.”
“That’s my boy,” Gatsby said and kissed his cheek.
“Hey…” Anna said.
“And… my girl,” Gatsby kissed her as well.
They all looked from one to the other.
Gatsby knew they all felt it. He was sure they could hear his heart beating faster. He could. Where could this go? Why now? Dear God, why now? He knew Anna and Curtis were attracted to each other. And he was certainly attracted to Curtis. But Anna had also worked her way into his heart. Funny how tragedy could draw people together. But here they were.
Anna said, “Gatsby, what are we going to do? I mean, we can’t stay here forever.”
“She’s right, Gats,” (the new pet moniker Curtis had dubbed him with) “we have to go to our… our homes.”
Gatsby was prepared for this. “Go home to what? To whom? You’re both single, alone in the city, no families… like me.”
Neither responded. He knew they couldn’t. Then his capper: “And I love you both. You’re my family. We need to stick through this together. And not to be too much of a wet blanket, but the truth is the truth, for however long we have…”
Again there was silence.
Then, in common acquiescence, Anna and Curtis slumped into Gatsby and held on.
***
The Russian army attacked first, choosing Europe as its war zone to start. He swept through the weakened continent—army ants over a cow’s carcass.
China followed closely, sweeping through Southeast Asia and into his real goal: India. While most of India’s billion-plus population had been wiped out by the plague, the land mass was something China had always coveted. And after conquering those lands, they planned to impress those populations to help him devour Indonesia… then on to Australia.
This, of course, unbeknownst to the North Koreans, was also their goal as well: South Korea, Mongolia, the South Pacific,… Australia.
The Red Horse’s game plan was quite canny. And he knew his players. The American President was his favorite. With his megalomania, he knew exactly what the President would do.
And he did.
The President split his fronts and attacked Canada and Mexico at once. Then, using the Canadian forces, he would combine them with the Mexican troops and drive his forces down through Central and South America to Cape Horn. Canada, for some reason, after being devastated by the plague, seemed unable to recover or move on, losing their Prime Minister and all but one cabinet minister. It was primed for the US’s picking. And the “wall” that the government had decided to build on Mexico’s border with the US, having been held up with red tape, proved to be a blessing in disguise. Now they could move as freely into Mexico as the illegal immigrants had moved into the United States.
The Mideast and Africa would take care of themselves. The terrorist groups had infiltrated all of the major countries and the genocide of the “Infidels” would be child’s play.
The Red Horse’s ride was done.
***
“Not to get political,” Anna said, “But to call our President a ‘loose cannon’ may have been the understatement of the century. He basically annexed Canada and Mexico folded their cards almost before he started.”
The plague seemed to have ended on its own, for some inexplicable reason, Curtis thought. And now here the three of them were together, still at Gatsby’s. And it was a foregone conclusion that they would remain here until… Until what? The end of the world? Could it really be so?
After weeks of cogitation and deciphering, (Curtis had secretly been studying the Book of Revelation and its different translations.) he could hold his thoughts no longer. “And not to get religious or Biblical, but you both may or may not know about the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse in the Book of Revelation—”
“I’m familiar,” Gatsby said dryly.
“Me too,” Anna added.
“Sorry,” Curtis recanted. “I grew up religious. Wasn’t sure about you two. Anyway, I’ve been researching what the Book says. The first two horses are Pestilence and War. And the whole thing about the Anti-Christ arising from the Mideast… What if the terrorist faction is the Anti-Christ? The Bible doesn’t really say that it’s a man. I think the real evil—infestation, if you will—is that and has been for quite some time. An evil virus slowly poisoning humanity.”
“Hmm.” Anna looked at him, taking a long swallow of her Cabernet. “I studied the Bible in college and I see where you’re getting this, but what about the other signs? The Seven Seals? etc.” She sucked in a sharp breath.
“What is it?” Gatsby asked.
“This may be stretching things, but, The Seven Seals could be seven S-E-A-L-S?” She spelled out. “Just a thought,” Anna said.
“Yes! The Special Forces guys! I like your thinking, Anna,” Gatsby said, tongue firmly implanted in cheek.
“You are joking, aren’t you?” Curtis narrowed his eyes at her.
“Yes. Maybe. Who knows?” Anna shrugged and sipped her wine.
“All right, you two wannabe conspiracy theorists, I have actually tried to interpret these Biblical references, but I haven’t found any real corollaries to—”
“Perhaps they were merely add-ons, if you will.” He smiled ironically at Curtis. “Seriously speaking now, prophecies of doom to frighten the poor masses into being righteous. After all, what are a mere Four Horsemen and an Anti-Christ compared to the addition of Seven Seals, Seven Trumpets, Seven Bowls, the Lamb of God, the Whore of Babylon, Satan’s Doom…? It’s all so dramatic and foreboding. What poor soul wouldn’t be frightened into submissiveness by all that?”
Curtis heard the sarcasm in his voice, but at the same time wondered if he was that far off the mark. Mark… of the Devil? Another harbinger? He felt himself smile wryly.
“I amuse you?” Gatsby asked.
“No… I mean, yes, you do amuse me, and I’m glad you are having fun with it, but I think your allegations may have a ring of truth. When the Bible—Revelation—was written by John, the world—the Mideast, coincidentally—was mostly peasants and menial laborers. They needed guidance and laws, and hope. What if…” He sighed in exasperation. “I think I’m more confused now than I was before I postulated my theory.”
“Ah, my handsome friend, your theories are as good as, and probably better than, any.”
“I agree with Gatsby, Curtis.” Anna had finished her wine and was pouring more for the three of them. “And the more I think about it, the more I think you’re on to something. The big problem is, though, is there anything we can do about it? Other than watch it all play out from our ivory tower in the sky. Mind you, it is a fabulous ivory tower.” She raised her glass to Gatsby and drank. “And there are no two other people I would want to spend the last days of Earth with.”
“Hear, hear,” the men toasted back.
After a large gulp, Curtis said, “My head hurts… and it’s not from the wine. In fact, I intend to drink a lot more of it—that is if you’ve left any, Anna.” He held out his glass to her. “If you would be so kind. And Famine is the next horsey up.”
Anna raised the bottle for him. “Horsey?” She drained the last of the bottle into his glass. “No famine here,” she mumbled, and shook the empty bottle.
“I’ll get another.” Gatsby took the empty bottle from her.
“My prince,” Curtis and Anna said together. They froze, expressions puzzled. Then all three laughed.
***
“Have you thought of where the new Eden, new Jerusalem, will be?” Eve asked Adam.
“Several areas have possibilities,” Adam responded.
“I don’t think it should be in the Mideast,” Cain said.
“Nor I,” Abel added. “Maybe an island, or Australia. Tasmania.”
“I was thinking somewhere in the United States. Of course, all areas will have new names,” Adam said. “I’m fond of the West Coast.”
“San Diego has the best climate,” Cain volunteered.
Eve nodded. “And an ocean breeze as well.” She glanced at Abel. “And not as many dangerous animals for our chosen couple.”
“Only suggestions,” Abel said, holding his hands up in defense. “San Diego is nice.”
“Very well, then,” Adam said. “San Diego will be the new Eden.”
“Eos. For dawn. A new beginning.” She looked to the other three for acceptance. They nodded.
“But who will be the two to begin the world anew?” Abel asked, not to anyone in particular.
Adam turned to Eve. “After your ride as Famine, we will look to those who remain, then start making the most important of decisions.”
They all felt the weight of the decision.
Who would they choose?
***
As they watched the fate of the world unfold before them on the cold, dispassionate television screen, the three new friends shared everything they thought. There was no reason to hide anything. Who would care? They were their own world now.
The love between them was palpable, Anna observed. Did she love Curtis? Undoubtedly. Did she love Gatsby? How could she not? Both were handsome, with Curtis’s boyish, blond, good looks, and Gatsby with his dark looks and bad-boy air. She didn’t realize how wonderful it could be to have two such devoted, loyal, and honest friends like them. Ironic that here at the end of times she would find such happiness. And she had. If she had lost either of them to plague, or the famine that had now begun—as predicted—she wouldn’t want to live. As extreme as that sounded, it was how she felt. She looked at the two men engrossed in the television, and smiled.
Gatsby said, “It’s like watching a live game of Risk. The US has North and South America; Russia has Europe and part of Asia, over to Kamchatka; North Korea has parts of eastern Asia, the South Pacific and half of Australia; China the bulk of Asia, including India and the other half of Australia; and finally the mysterious terrorist faction, with no discernable leader, conquered the Mideast and all of Africa. It’s crazy!”
“And now they’re after one another,” Curtis said. “Add to that the worldwide crop failure…”
“The Black Horse, Famine.” Anna’s tone held all the weight of the expected inevitable. “How long can the fighting last without food to feed the troops?”
“I have a question that for some odd reason no one has addressed.” Gatsby stood up to look at the two when he said this. “Why has no one dropped one dreaded nuke?”
Anna and Curtis looked at one another, shrugged.
Anna spoke first. “They’re afraid of destroying the world?” Her voice went up an octave on the last word. She looked to Curtis for help.
“Don’t look at me for an explanation. I gave up on rationality months ago. Maybe they’re animal lovers?” He looked at the screen and the ubiquitous BREAKING NEWS banner. “It seems Famine is doing her job well.”
“How do you know Famine’s a she?” Anna said, almost defensively.
Curtis cocked his head. “I don’t know. It just came out. Sorry, didn’t mean to offend.”
“None taken,” she said. “Just curious. But strangely… I agree; I think Famine’s a she.”
“Curiouser and curiouser.” Gatsby raised one eyebrow. “Famine—feminine? They do sound similar.”
“Ah, perceptive, Gats. You’re more than a wealthy, pretty face.”
“Are you trying to make me blush, Mr. Ambassador?” Gatsby asked, still standing.
Curtis stood up next to him—his face mere inches from Gatsby’s. He wet his lips, saying, “It seems I have.”
Anna laughed softly, feeling the underlying tension between them. They were two of the most beautiful men she had ever seen. But it was their souls that made them so beautiful. Oh sure, outwardly they were movie-star handsome, but they both had such pure, loving spirits. She found herself saying aloud, “You’re both so beautiful.”
Wordlessly, Gatsby reached for her and pulled her to them, then said, “You two have made my life… and for that I will be forever grateful.”
Anna saw the tears in his eyes.
“I do believe we have been blessed as well,” Curtis murmured. Anna saw his tears reflected there, then realized her own eyes had welled up.
Gatsby swallowed hard before saying, “This will go on record as the poorest taste for a pun of all time, but… all I can say is: Till death do we part.”
They both pushed him hard onto the couch.
***
Eve sat between Cain and Abel, while they waited for Adam, discussing the remaining meager population left and the possibilities for their new “Adam and Eve.”
“There is a man in France that has the qualities we are looking for,” Abel said.
“There is a woman in New Zealand—”
“Ahem.” Adam entered.
“Adam,” Eve started, “we have our choices made.”
“As do I,” Adam returned. “There will only be two chosen, as you know. Two to begin our new Eos. Let us carefully review our candidates.”
Cain said, “I feel quite strongly about my choices. I don’t see how we can come to an accord.”
Adam smiled gently. “It will all come right, and as it should be. We will be in perfect agreement before Earth beholds the Pale Horse.”
***
As bizarrely wonderful as their unpredictable meeting had been, the three couldn’t have been more grateful for one another.
Gatsby sat silent, watching his two beloved companions, both silent as well. They stared at the enormous screen. There was one news station that still aired, and even that one now only aired sporadically, a few die-hard (poor choice of words, he thought) dedicated reporters, doing what they loved to the bitter end. Or in his, and Anna’s and Curtis’s case, the bitter sweet end.
He smiled at them, content. Yes. Content. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so content. Dare he say happy? Well, to himself he could.
They all knew the days were numbered, and then they would be no more. The Pale Horse would come and take the remaining with it.
“Contemplating the secrets of the universe, my friend?” Curtis pulled him from his reverie.
“Something like that. I was thinking how ironic that the world leaders set out to conquer a doomed world… instead of enjoying their last days. Pathetic, really. And… I wasn’t going to say this, but why the hell not? I’m happy. I know Death, literally, is near, yet your love—yes, love, because what we have is so much more than friendship—has brought me to a place that I never thought could exist. You and Anna have given me what we all strive for: a life fulfilled by people who unconditionally love you. What more could I ask?”
“More time?” Anna said wryly. She got up and moved to the overstuffed chair where Gatsby sat. She plopped down on one arm; Curtis mirrored her on the other side. They both put their arms around him.
Gatsby could feel the love radiate from them. “Yes, more time would be nice.”
“I have an idea,” Anna said. “Let’s turn off the TV for good and play some games. Maybe pop on some CDs from your extensive collection of musicals and sing along.”
Gatsby felt his eyes burn. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard for a long time.”
“I second it.” Curtis gave him a hug, leaned over, grabbed the remote, and clocked the television off. Under his breath, he said, “It’s not like we don’t know the ending.”
“Gallows humor. That’s the spirit,” Gatsby said and clapped Curtis on the back. He got up and headed to a wall cabinet.
Curtis raced by him and grabbed the cabinet door. “I get to pick the show.”
“And I get to pick the game,” Anna said from another corner of the great room where she was opening a large door.
“How did you know where the games are?” Gatsby asked.
“After all this time, did you think we wouldn’t snoop a little? Please. I even know where you hide your sex toys.” She gave a little giggle.
Indignant, Gatsby said as he strode over to her. “I don’t have sex toys.”
“I know.” She smiled coyly. “But you’re so cute when you get riled.”
“True,” Curtis said, crossing the room to them. He produced two CDs. “Camelot or Brigadoon? I’m feeling a Lerner and Lowe mood. I thought about On a Clear Day—”
“That’s Lerner and Lane,” Gatsby corrected.
“I actually knew that, my musical maven. I was checking you.” Curtis poked him in the side. “But I do like that show too.”
“Touché,” Gatsby said. “Camelot first?”
“Done.” Curtis walked over to the state-of-the-art sound system, fiddled with it a bit, and soon the overture was playing, resounding throughout the room from the cleverly concealed speakers.
“Monopoly?” Anna asked.
“Not against the real estate mogul here.” Curtis said, and gave Gatsby another poke in the ribs.
“Risk?”
“Too ironic.” This time Gatsby poked Curtis back.
“Life?”
“The same,” the two men said together, and attempted to poke one another again. They laughed.
“Behave, boys,” Anna gave them a mock severe look.
They returned the same mock contrite looks.
All three laughed.
“Trivial Pursuit?” Anna continued.
The men nodded their approval.
“All right, then.” Anna pulled the blue box from a shelf. “Just remember four-point-oh from Vassar…” She let the threat linger in the air.
“Bring it on, girl,” Curtis said.
Gatsby moved to the bar. “I think martinis all around.”
“You read my mind,” Curtis said, sitting at the large coffee table and slipping off his shoes. “I need to be comfortable for this,” he said off Anna’s quizzical look.
“Absolutely,” she said and slipped her own shoes off as well.
Gatsby set a large tray with a glass pitcher and three martini glasses on the table. Each glass sported two olives. He poured.
They raised their glasses.
Anna said, “To you both. Thank you for everything.”
Curtis said, “To the finest people I have ever met.”
Gatsby’s throat closed. He felt his eyes filling. “To love.”
“To love,” the three said.
***
“As I said, Cain,” Adam began, “we would all completely concur with our choices.”
“Yes, they’re perfect,” Cain said. He held Abel’s hand and squeezed it.
“Yes, perfect,” Abel added and squeezed Cain’s hand in return.
“I believe the woman is an even better choice than the one we had originally thought of. Eve,” Eve said. She gave Adam a small hug. “are you ready to finish this, Adam?”
“I am. The final ride of the Pale Horse.”
***
The world came to an end.
***
Then… the beginning…
***
They awoke on the beach, stirring slowly, rubbing their eyes.
They were naked, but not embarrassed.
They stared at one another, puzzlement in their eyes as they tried to remember.
They stood and brushed the sand from their bodies.
“Where are we?” Anna asked, looking around her.
“I don’t know, but it’s warm and beautiful. Idyllic,” Curtis answered her.
“Yes, it is,” she said. “Calm and serene.”
They looked inland, but they saw nothing but land and trees.
“My guess is Coronado… San Diego area. I was here many times, when it was inhabited,” Gatsby said as he rose and began brushing himself off.
“What do you think this means?” Anna asked.
“I think it means we’ve been given a second chance,” Curtis said. His head slowly nodded, knowingly.
“I do too.” Gatsby moved between his two fellow survivors. “I don’t know how, or why us—why we’ve been chosen. But I do know I thank God for this inexplicable opportunity.”
He took both of their hands.
“Let’s make sure we get it right this time.”