What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) (16 page)

Out of desperation, Jack did as she instructed.  To his astonishment, he re-experienced the sound-proof curtain phenomenon.  The buffering sensation was such a relief, his knees went watery.  He stared at her, looked around, then stared at her again.

“Are you experiencing this, too?  Are they?  What’s happened to us?”

“We’re not sure,” Layla answered.  She linked her arm with his as she would with an invalid’s, and started walking him towards the church.  “Let’s get inside.  I’m sorry, I should have warned you, but I honestly wasn’t sure what you’d experience.  It seems to be different for all of us.”

The group parted to allow them passage, then fell in behind them.  Layla led them through the foyer and into the sanctuary.  At the front of the church, she urged him into the front pew, then sat while people arranged themselves as they saw fit. 

Rowan and her brother sat side by side on the steps to the pulpit.  Jack knew Rowan was only a few years older than her brother – they were both in their late 20’s – and he was struck by how much exhaustion had aged her.  Her eyes were sunken and
rimmed with darkness, and her normally vibrant skin looked dull and yellowish.  She scanned the crowd constantly, her eyes lingering here and there, a frown of concern deepening the lines on her face.  Jack wondered what she was seeing that worried her so.  Beside her, Alder was scanning, too.  Occasionally he would nod at the people trickling in, but he seemed to be looking for someone who had not yet arrived.

Jack waited until the rustling behind him had settled down, then shifted to sit sideways in the pew.  Layla let go of his arm and scooted away from him, and the onslaught was immediate. 
Feelings
.  From everyone, coming from everywhere, a cacophony of emotion.  He actually put his hands over his ears for a moment before he remembered the cone of light thing.  He did a half-hearted visualization, experienced a little relief, then gritted his teeth and got serious.  He closed his eyes and envisioned a blinding white cone of light, protective, strong, yet flexible. 
Christ Light
, his mind whispered. 
Think of it as the Light of God.

Intense relief filled him.  He kept his eyes closed, bowed his head, and said the most heart-felt prayer of thanks of his life without words, without conscious concepts – just a flood of gratitude to God for His protection, His comfort, His wisdom.  When he opened his eyes and looked up, he was confronted by a group of 20 or so individuals of varying ages, all of them watching him.

“I had a plan,” he began.  “I had a notebook.”  He held it up and smiled wryly.  “I even started to make a list.  And the things on that list are very important – I still believe that – but first, we need to talk about us.  About how we’re different.  I didn’t want to listen to Layla.” 

He turned his head to look at her, nodded his head in apology, then turned back to the group.  Most of them were
leaning towards him now, some of them wearing expressions of urgency or eagerness.  “We’re different.  I’m different – I can feel what you all are feeling.  As if I’m you, and your feelings are mine.  Is this happening to all of you?”

Hands shot up all over the room, but before he could point at someone, Alder spoke from behind him.  “It’s different for me.  I understand mechanical devices, even ones I don’t know anything about.  I can
see
how the energy should move through them.”

Jack turned around.  “You couldn’t do this before?”

“Not really.  Not like now.”  Alder looked at his sister, and she nodded her encouragement.  “I’ve always liked to tinker with electronic or mechanical things.  But now I can just look at something and know how it should work, what parts aren’t functioning or need to be replaced, that kind of thing.”  He nudged Rowan with his elbow.  “You should say what you’ve observed, and what you can do.”

Rowan stood up.  “I started to see this emerging as the plague was burning itself out.  People started asking me about strange experiences, things they were seeing or feeling that didn’t make sense or that scared them.  They
knew
things without being able to explain how, like what other people’s thoughts or feelings were, or what their intentions were.  Some people have talked about being able to detect when others are lying.  Other people have an uncanny rapport with animals.  Often, it’s something they had flashes of before, but now it’s more…permanent.  More strong.”

Jack looked around; some people were nodding excitedly, while others were frowning.  Several were darting glances around the room, as if plotting the best escape route.  He was tempted for a moment to lower his shield of light, but
decided it would be foolish, given the evidence of strong emotion in the room.  He turned back to Rowan.

“Do you have any theories as to why this is happening?”

Rowan looked at Layla and smiled crookedly.  “At first, I thought you were all losing your freakin’ minds.”  A smattering of laughter greeted her words.  “Then, it started to happen to me.  I can
see
what’s wrong with people.  Medically, I mean, disease states or malfunctions.  Diabetes, heart disease, tumors.  It started when I would touch a patient.  Now, I just have to look at someone and…ask, I guess.  Ask for the information.  Layla’s the one who came up with a working theory.”

Jack turned to look at her, and didn’t have to ask.  She met his gaze steadily.

“I think it’s intuition.  I think those of us that survived are evolving, or have evolved.  I think we’re a new species of human, and that our brains have adapted to accommodate intuition as a true sixth sense.”

Her words were met with dead silence and stillness, a collective holding-of-breath.  Then, from the back of the sanctuary, a voice spat:  “That is Satan talking!  Evolution is a myth, and the Godly know better than to believe in it!”

Jack turned around.  An older, graying man was on his feet, a younger woman with a pinched, hunted face beside him, and their joint emotions overrode his cloak of light. 
Outrage, defensiveness, righteous and fanatical belief, and fear, fear, fear.
  Without a word, Layla put her hand on his arm, and his feelings were once again his own. 

From a place of calmness, Jack regarded them.  Suddenly, he knew just what to say and how to say it.  “This is frightening for all of us, and none of us know what to think.  I’m afraid that Satan has a hand in it, too.  But we have to put aside the fear so we can talk about all the possibilities.  If we don’t
speak of things we fear, the fear grows worse, and the thing may take on greater significance than it deserves.  We all know this.” 

He paused, focused on the man, and found the balance he sought between kindness and implacability.  “We will listen to your concerns with respect.  Will you listen to others with that same respect?”

The man blustered up, out of life-long habit.  “I will not listen to blasphemy in silence!  And shame on you for suggesting I do!”

“Then you must choose to go.  We need everyone we can muster.  There are so few of us left to rebuild.  But we must begin as we mean to go on.  We can’t go forward stifled by fear.  You’re free to choose your course.”  Deliberately, he turned his back on the pair, and sought Layla’s gaze.  “Please, go on.”

Her eyes flickered between him and the couple, then she squared her shoulders and looked around at the other congregants.  “Some of us have already talked about this, which is how we started to form a theory.  Intuition can be experienced in many different ways – some people get hunches, or see patterns; others feel the emotions of others; some people experience physical sensations like chills, or a certainty in their guts; and there are some rare souls who are spiritually attuned.”

She looked around the room, then glanced back at Alder with her eyebrows raised in question.  He shrugged in answer; clearly, they were looking for someone who wasn’t here, perhaps someone who fit the latter description she’d offered.  Then, she looked at Jack, and her chin tilted at a defiant angle.

“I’ve been privileged to meet a few true spiritual intuitives.  They’re some of the strongest and most fragile people I’ve ever met.  Some of them can communicate with people who have passed beyond the veil.”  She looked around the room, and sorrow settled on her face, a mask that aged and burdened her.  “I imagine it would be a very painful time to have that particular ability.”

Every head in the room bowed, and Jack felt their collective loss like a tsunami.  He did cover his ears this time, and squeezed his eyes shut, and focused on nothing but his cloak of God Light, the Light of Christ that surrounded and protected him.  Layla’s hand landed on his shoulder; he knew it was her because he didn’t have to struggle any more.  She was shielding them both, and she had been all along.  He had no idea how to deal with that reality, how to incorporate it into his spiritual foundation.

Jack lifted his head and scanned the crowd again, noting the tears, the despair, the despondency.  They needed to focus on action, not loss, at least for the time being.  He stood up, and flipped open his notebook.  “Alright, everyone, let’s do this:  We need to inventory two things – what people’s experiences have been, and what their skills are.  You’ve already started to talk to Rowan about your experiences, so let’s keep on that way.  I’ll start talking to people about what they can do – hobbies, skills, jobs – all that.  Before we go any farther, do any of you have medical training of any kind – first aid, CPR, anything?”

From the back of the sanctuary, a soft dreamy voice answered.  “Well, I grow medicinal herbs, and I make tonics, tinctures and teas with them.”

Jack squinted.  A woman was walking up the center aisle, backlit by the brilliant sunshine coming through the windows in the foyer.  He blinked a few times, and not for the first or the last time, wondered if he was losing his mind.

She looked like every clichéd, idealized depiction of an angel Jack had ever seen.  Soft, pure blonde hair floated around petite shoulders.  A face of delicate, otherworldly beauty was set in a serene expression.  She was tiny in stature, and her small
feet hardly seemed to touch the carpet as she glided towards them.  Her hand fluttered to her cheek to brush back a wisp of hair, and she smiled gently as she came to a stop in the midst of the group.

“I also grow medical marijuana,” she announced.  “And to borrow a phrase, I see dead people.  But please don’t ask me to speak with your loved ones.  If they want to communicate with you, they’ll let me know.”

She may as well have lit a string of fire crackers.  The room buzzed and stirred around her like a rattlesnake disturbed from a nap.  Jack looked to Layla, but she was looking at Alder, who looked grim.  He left Rowan’s side and bounded down the steps to their mysterious visitor.  Escorting her back to the front of the sanctuary to rejoin his sister, he didn’t hesitate to place his body between the woman and the group; protectiveness radiated off him like an aura.

Layla stood up again, “Everyone, this is Verity Brooks.  She used to supply many of our area naturopaths and herbalists with their medicinal supplies.  And as she so precipitously announced…” she glanced wryly at Alder and Verity, “...she has some other skills as well.”

“Why would you do that?”  Jenny’s mother was on her feet, her face stricken.  “Why would you tell us you can talk with people who have died, then tell us not to ask you about it?  It’s cruel!”

Verity blinked.  “I’m so very sorry,” she said slowly.  “I wasn’t trying to be cruel.  I was just telling you the truth.  The dead only communicate when they want or need to.  It can’t be forced or coerced.”

Jenny’s mother slid into the aisle, and started creeping forward.  Hope and desperation fought on her face.  “But you could tell me if Jenny was alright.  You could tell me if she was with God, or…”  Her voice trailed off, and she stopped walking, listing to the side, hands wringing.

Alder shifted his body in front of Verity, but she sidestepped him and walked to Jenny’s mother with fairy-like grace.  She reached her hands out and stilled the painful wringing.  “Of course she’s alright.  All souls return to the Divine One, at least eventually.”  Her eyes went unfocused for a moment, and her face seemed to glow with ethereal light.  “Your daughter didn’t linger.  She’s at peace.”

Jenny’s mother started sobbing.  “She’s with Jesus?  She’s with the Savior?”

Verity reached up and touched the other woman’s cheek with a hand so delicate, it looked transparent.  “If that’s what she expected in the Time outside of Time, that’s what she’s experiencing.”

A commotion at the back of the church pulled Jack’s attention away from the astonishing tableau.  The older man and woman who had protested before had stood, and were shuffling hurriedly out of the pew they’d been seated in.  The man glared at Jack.

“Did you hear that?”  He hissed.  “The ‘Divine One’ – not God!  She claims she can speak with the dead – she’s a demon!  A tool of the Devil!”  He seized the woman’s arm as soon as they were in the aisle, and they both hustled out without a backward glance.

Jack was starting to feel like he was in a marathon episode of the Twilight Zone.  He turned back to Jenny’s mother and Verity.  Jenny’s mother had taken a step back, her face wrinkled in confusion, and she was looking back and forth between Verity and Jack.

“What does that mean?  Those don’t sound like Christian teachings.”

Before Jack could form a stumbling reply, Verity answered.  “The Time outside of Time transcends religious teachings.  Christianity isn’t wrong.  It’s just not all there is.  We participate in our reality when we rejoin the Divine One, just as we participate in it on the Earthly plane.”