The Anchorites: Chapter 2
This week’s chapter is a short one, so I figured I could get away with sending you guys a link to a short story I finished recently. It’s an epic poem about two friends, an evil sheik, a demon, dragon, a magic lamp and betrayal. Enjoy.
Last week, a stranger entered the camp and held Havel at knife point, raving about the world's end. The deranged intruder was subdued and taken away, while Havel, still shaken, later pondered the existence of an afterlife with his close friend, Jema.
2
The Stranger
“Not everyone who saith unto Me, Lord, Lord, shall enter the kingdom of heaven.”
Matthew 7:21
“Listen,” a woman wearing gloves said. “You’ve been mildly sedated.” Her voice was soft, clinical. “We dressed your wounds and attended to your physical needs.” She stood up from her stool, stripped off her gloves, and discarded them into a bin by her feet. “You were severely dehydrated, and your blood showed serious iron saturation, probably from all the dust you inhaled.”
“Iron dust?” the stranger croaked. He was still coming to and now realized that he was lying horizontally, looking up at the woman.
“That dust isn’t just from failed crops, you know. A lot of it’s pulverized metal and is terrible for humans to breathe. That being said, you’re lucky. You should be able to think more clearly in the morning.”
“So you’ve all been living here? Surviving together?” The stranger was secured to a stainless steel table.
“Yes sir, we set up this commune seven years ago.”
“We?”
“That’s right. We started as a group of UN healthcare workers deployed to the Middle East.”
“What about the rest of the world?”
“Uh… we don’t know. We—everyone, I suppose—has been cut off from each other since the satellites fell.”
The stranger blinked hard. His vision was getting worse each day, and this woman's features blurred into ambiguity. He felt a fresh and heady wave of medication. Fighting the sensation, he turned his head to and fro on the table.
“This is not right,” he mumbled through numb lips. His mind repeated the well-worn verse: And then shall He send His angels, and shall gather together His elect from the four winds, from the uttermost part of the earth to the uttermost part of heaven. The stranger's throat constricted with an overwhelming sense of helplessness. “It’s not supposed to be this way. I’m supposed to go home.”
Moving toward the door the woman stopped short, giving the stranger a pitying half-smile.
“It seems like you have been alone for a long time,” she leaned against the doorpost. “Dehydration can affect your mental health, you know. I’m sure you will stabilize under our care.” The stranger ignored her and struggled against his bonds. The woman turned off the lights, left the room, and locked the door.
“Take me home, Lord,” he mewled. “Why didn't you take me home?” In the near darkness, he stopped struggling against his restraints and began the process of slowing his mind. Listening to his breathing he wondered, was this all for nothing? The memory of his last night at sea flashed before him, splintering the calm. Windswept and blind in the storm, he screamed out to God for a sign. The only spirit that moved that night was the three hundred-dollar bottle of D'Amalfi he spewed over the port side bow. Maybe it’s my fault. He sniffled and tried to calm down once more. What if I simply had not been chosen? What if I had not been good enough? It wouldn't be the first time.
Then, his heart picked up pace and his sweat chilled. Here it comes, the scariest thought... What if it’s all false? No God. No rapture. No heaven, all of it untrue. There had always been a mental barrier set up to keep such intrusive thoughts out. Where was that barrier now?
The drugs and exhaustion were closing in on him, his fragile composure broke, and he wept.
Afterward, feeling wrung out, the old man turned his head toward the wall. The cold steel felt good on his hot ears. What have I become? A hermit, an anchorite questing for God in solitude. That failed, and now he found life to be as lifeless as a tomb. Whispering into the dark, “I finally lost everything.”
And sleep pressed down on him like silt settling at the bottom of a dark pool.