Souls - XXXII

The bus has seen better days, the harshness of Arizona has forced rust to spread and a few of the windows are now cardboard held up by duct tape, but all in all it’s the same bus I purchased from a used car lot with church funds. 

That was a lifetime ago.

I move to the door and knock. There is instant shuffling and grunting as someone makes their way to the door. The door slides open like an accordion. A rifle points out of the shadows at me. What catches my attention though, is the little girl standing below it. She’s holding a worn stuffed animal, so worn it’s hard to tell what animal it was originally supposed to resemble. 

A man’s voice rattles, “Darcy! Get over here!”

Darcy was a woman in my congregation, her husband’s name was Alan. I’m guessing Alan is on the other side of the rifle. I can’t look away from the child. She’s young enough that she was probably born after the world went to hell. Her eyes show a bored malaise that lets me know this world is all she’s ever known, no sadness or grief for a world lost.

I wasn’t even sure  people were still born anymore.

The man’s voice rattles words again, “It’s you ain’t it?”

I look back up to the shadow and nod.

“It’s me.”

“Darcy!”

More shuffling, then Darcy appears from the shadows. She has aged, and not in the regal way. She looks like an old woman now. Again, I wasn’t even sure people even aged anymore.

Alan takes her leads and leaves the shadows behind. He hasn’t aged a bit, same old Alan.

“How? How are you here?” Darcy is staring at me the same way I stared at the bus, half expecting me to disappear into the sand if she tried to touch me.

I shrugged, “I’m not even sure. Can I come in?”

They slowly nod, the kind of nod that communicates they will allow it but they’re not in full support of it.

I slide in, the bus is a mess. It’s now a makeshift camper, seats made up to look like beds, clothes and supplies strewn about. 

“Where’s everyone else? How did you get here?”

“We drove, after the news” Alan’s rattle is gone. He is now explaining in his best deadpan voice.

“News?”

Darcy nods, “Yeah, when we found out about Jesus.”

I try not to act shocked that they know where Jesus is, or to tip my hand that I have a little piece of Jesus right in my pocket.

“You need some water?” Darcy is softening to me now.

“Please.”

“Emily, get our guest some water.”

The little girl darts out from behind her father’s legs and rushes to the back of the bus.

I motion to her, “Emily?”

“Yep, I was eight months pregnant when the rapture happened, she came out right then and there.”

The “rapture”, they’re still clinging to their book.

“How did you find us?” Alan is still deadpan, and he wants no part of small talk.

“I came here for the same reason, saw the bus when I hit city limits.”

Darcy smiles, but in that predatory mocking way. There is nothing kind about it.

“I thought you went and renounced God.”

I want to tell her who I work for, I want to tell her all the ways her and her stupid book were wrong, but I can’t find the energy to do so. Plus, water sounds really good right now.

“Well, we all make mistakes. Looking for some good old redemption.”

“I don’t think you’re gonna find it here.” Alan sounds defiant.

The little girl, Emily, hops past the mess and hands me slightly brown water in a mason jar. I drink it, I’m no position to be picky.

“I thought that was the whole tenant of this, redemption.”

“Oh it is, I just don’t think you got a shot at it.”

I sip the water, trying to hide the grimace. Water isn’t supposed to taste like this.

“Judge not lest ye be judged.” 

Alan laughs gruffly at this.

"We ain’t the ones judging."

“So you know where Jesus is?”

They both nod at this.

“Can you take me there?”

Silence takes over the bus, the little girl quietly darts back behind her father.

“Not yet, we ain’t ready. Got more prayin’ to do.”

“More praying?”

“Yep, we ain’t worthy yet. The others thought they were, they were wrong. We ain’t gonna make the same mistake.”

“Where are the others?”

Alan and Darcy look to each other in silence. Darcy nods, Alan turns to me.

“Jesus killed them.”