Their faces locked.

Crack.

The bullet hit Bruce in the shoulder. He twisted with the pain, but still tried to open the door.

Wiley reached over and pushed the door open.

Crack.

A gaping hole appeared in Bruce’s neck. He screamed, a muffled scream affected by his wound. “Go, Wiley. It’s not him. I’m sorry.”

Wiley pushed the door wide open and leant over the door. Bruce lay on the ground, hand on his neck, grimacing.

Crack.

“Go.”

If he stayed, he was dead. Now in the driver’s seat, he started the car and reversed out of the driveway. Before driving off he looked back. His last vision was the dogs and the man standing over Bruce. The man turned and raised the rifle toward Wiley.  

Wiley sped away. He drove on, wanting to go back but knew he couldn’t. It was hell back there. The word lawlessness entered his mind. Man of lawlessness. Son of destruction. Where had he heard those words before? He remembered. His dad.

He made his way back to the highway. He needed to pull over before he did something stupid. A rest area came into view. He turned in and searched for a place to park. Once stopped, he opened the door, leaned outside, and puked.

People were looking at him, but he was beyond caring.

“You okay, mister?” Someone said. Raising his head, he looked for the source and saw a young person. He saw himself in that person. His eyes watered up. Life. Where had it gone?

Wiley gestured that he was okay and looked for a tap. He struggled out of the car. Lots of cars. Many people heading … where? … North? … South?

He splashed his face with water and sat back in the car. He looked again at all the people and cars. Desperate people. SUVs packed to the ceiling. Trailers full of furnishings, suitcases. Sadness swept over him, and his tears brought coolness to his cheeks. Weeping, he placed his hands over his face and rested his head on the steering wheel. His tears increased, his sobs echoing in the chamber formed by his hands, his breathing heavy. He raised his head and banged the steering wheel.

Through watery eyes, he looked at the people in the rest area. Male and female. Old and young. He sensed their hopelessness. He saw the young person again, staring at him.

Hope was gone. All hope was gone. Hell had arrived.

God. I’m sorry.

51 - Welcome back

Jack’s heart reached out for Wiley. “Is that it?”

“No, Jack,” Leo said. “This is where our knowledge of metaphysics comes into play. More importantly, where the prayers of the saints have reached the Lord. The prayer for Wiley had been heard and will be acted on. God can turn back time.” Leo brought up a scene on the wall.

Wiley slumped against the table; arms folded as a pillow. He appeared to be asleep.

Ollie walked over and stood in front of the scene. “We can pass from one place to another with our thoughts.” With those words, Ollie was gone.

So this was knowledge. A knowledge that surpasses all understanding, and comes with great power.

* * *

The sound of a trumpet woke Wiley. He lifted his head from his arms and looked for the source of the sound. Nothing. He surveyed his surroundings, and it dawned on him that he’d been asleep. How long? Had he been dreaming?

He cleared his mind and looked out the window. Odd. Sheila was talking with someone in the garden. He stood up and walked over to the window. He still couldn’t see anyone. She turned her head toward the house and gave Wiley a smile. A strange smile. Her eyes were watery. He heard the noise again, a loud noise, an unusual sound almost trumpet like.

Sheila vanished.

Wiley rushed to the door just as the shadow came over the yard. He stepped out, looked up, fell to his knees, and punched the damp grass with his fists. He had returned.

What was going on? Had he been dreaming? Was he still dreaming?

Slowly standing, he looked up at Adventus. It was moving gracefully, with shafts of light shooting up as it passed. Was this the gathering of believers in the sky he’d heard about?

Sheila had talked to him about the Passover. It had seemed relevant at the time seeing Easter was upon them. He’d brought up the topics of aura glasses and green people. Sheila compared the green people to the blood painted on the Israelite’s doorframes, a seal or marking for the believer. The green people were being collected.

He went back inside, and loneliness overcame him. He looked at the bare table and went and sat down, closed his eyes, and placed his head in the palms of his hands. Tears came to his eyes. He wanted to sleep. To escape.

He has returned. Jesus has returned.

Wiley’s eyes were heavy.

Dad!

He needed to be with his dad. He opened his eyes to find a person sitting in a chair.

“Who are you?” Wiley gripped the edge of the table.

The bearded person smiled and tipped his panama hat. “Your guardian angel.” The angel pointed to the chair. “Sit. You’re not dreaming.”

Had he been dreaming? He studied the person. “I know you.”

“You do, I saved you once before and you mistook me for the King. But that’s okay because it’s He who has sent me to you again.

“The surfer guy.” Wiley had reached the end of himself. He had many questions, but one was urgent. With the heaviness he’d felt of late and the internal feeling of being dirty, he knew he needed to be made clean and there was only one answer. He believed in God and always had, but had fought the battle, fought the pull, fought the resistance. Now, he knew he had to let go. He wanted to be obedient.

“Is it still possible?”

“It is.”

The wall behind his visitor started to swirl, revealing a hidden passage. His visitor moved toward Wiley, holding something in his hand. He held it up and a fine mist covered Wiley. He sensed a quietness like never before. Through that quietness, he heard what sounded like a trumpet. Loud but soft. Like the one he thought he’d heard before.

“Nothing to fear,” the visitor said. “The cells in your body will absorb that. Your cells are being feed new information, new instructions. You’ve been changed in the twinkle of an eye.” He winked.

The visitor tilted his head towards the wall. Wiley entered the opening with a new heart. The entrance closed behind them. He had no fear and sensed the presence of others. Many others.

The visitor looked at him. “You’ll be there shortly.”

“Where?”