BEWARE THE COUNTERFEIT RAPTURE!. Sandra Ghost
began picking up the empty pie plates, "I'm really worried about her. I think she's drinking a lot, and this psychic thing is so dangerous. She's got crystals and pyramids all over her living room. Jess, you've just got to talk to her. She won't listen to me--never would."
"All of you, just get off Scarlett's back. You're always picking on her," Horace lambasted them.
"Not picking on her, Dad, just terribly concerned. I don't think you realize how vulnerable she's making herself."
"Vulnerable?" Lance raised an eyebrow. "To whom? Men?"
"Well, yes, with her drinking, but I was really referring to being vulnerable to Satan. All those practices she's into are rooted in Satanism. She might just as well be into grave robbing, pentagrams and Satan worship. It's just that consulting horoscopes, psychics and tarot cards has a deceptively prettier face put on it."
"Oh, come on now! You don't really believe that, do you?" The words were intended as a "put down", but Horace looked a bit worried.
"Dad, do you believe in Satan?" Jesse asked.
There was hesitation in the answer. "No, not...not really."
"Do you believe in Jesus Christ?"
"I guess so. Just what kind of an inquisition is this?" Horace indignantly snorted.
"Jesus believed Satan existed--referred to him as the 'god of this world'," Lee said quietly. "We're afraid Scarlett is being dangerously deceived."
"Whatever. "If that's what they want to believe, fine. I think that's just narrow-minded beliefs, legalistic mumbo jumbo. I dearly love my kids, but I wish they'd go home now. Enough's enough, Horace thought as he diligently cleaned his glasses with the napkin. The nose-piece was beginning to pinch. He'd have to make an appointment with the optometrist.
Jesse looked at Lee briefly, should he press the point further, he wondered? "Dad, you said you believe in Jesus Christ. Do you believe He died for your sins?"
Would the kid never let up? He hated being pressed into a corner like this. "Yes," he answered, "I guess so, but don't you worry about me getting into heaven, boy. Your mother's got enough faith for both of us."
Marianne smiled at him--took his hand.
"You can't ride Mom's apron strings to heaven, Dad. You have to make your own decision. You can't just know Jesus Christ as Savior...you need to know Him as Lord."
That's it! I'm tired, and I'm sick and tired of this conversation. "Don't mean to be rude, but I'm going to go lie down for a bit. I'm really whipped, worked out in the garden weeding around the tomatoes this afternoon." He abruptly left the room.
Jesse and Lee looked at each other, then at Marianne who shrugged her shoulders, "You tried, son, thanks." There seemed to be a heavy sadness in her words.
After dark that evening, Lance grabbed a fishing pole. He and Demian slowly walked out to the pond that he had made and carefully stocked. When he was troubled, he headed for a fishing hole like some men headed for the nearest bar. Jesse's words, Lee's and his father's swirled around like a whirlpool, sucking him down.The moon illuminated the path. Demian seemed to be thrilled at a nighttime excursion with his master. He ran ahead, scouting, then back to lick Lance's hand. They reached the pond's bank. Lance sat down on the bench, and pulled a spinner from the tackle box. "We'll sneak up on a fat one tonight, boy." The dog cocked his head, answering with a high yip.
Fireflies winked their morse code to each other. A bullfrog began to croak on the other side of the pond. A heavy blanket of honey suckle filled the air. Lance tied on the spinner and cast. He knew there was a God. All I have to do is look around at nature and I know He's there. Isn't that enough? Do I have to turn myself over to Jesus Christ to qualify to get to heaven? Jesse's words came rushing back, "You can't just know Him as the Savior, you need to know Him as Lord." Just exactly what did that mean? Demian laid his head down on enormous paws, watching Lance work the spinner across the pond.
Mother hauled us to church and kind of chucked Jesus down our throats in doses, like she did spoonfuls of Cod Liver Oil when were kids. Maybe I kinda got turned off at some point...never thought much about it really. Maybe Scarlett got turned off too, but what about Jesse? It didn't work that way with him. His next cast went to the other side of the pond.
"Did you see that, boy, did you?" Demian blinked his congratulations.
He reeled slowly. Jesse sure put Dad on the spot about Satan, but I don't know if I believe in him either. What if all this frightening EMP stuff and AIDS, disastrous weather and earthquakes are really signs of the return of Jesus? The bullfrog began tuning up to sing bass in a barbershop quartet.
Suddenly, Demian sat up. His ears were at alert, and the massive dog began sniffing the air. He began to whine and cry softly.
"What's wrong, boy. What is it?" The dog's hackles began to rise, a low threatening growl began rolling deep in his chest.
"What is it, is there a bear?" Lance reached for the .44 Magnum he had strapped on before they'd come outside. Bear, mountain lion and bobcats occasionally strayed down off the Skyline Drive. He always armed himself at night for protection.
Demian's growl now turned into vicious snarling--teeth bared. Nothing could be seen.
At that moment, a huge lighted craft, the size of a football field,silently swept over the mountains which crested on the Drive, passed directly overhead and disappeared down by the Shenandoah River. There was no noise.
Lance could hear his heart beating in his ears. The blood seemed to drain from his head. He grabbed the bench as he suddenly felt faint. Demian's growling stopped. "That was a UFO...scared the beejeebers out of me too, boy. I didn't think I believed in those things either. I sure do now!"
Demian pressed against his leg. He stroked the beautiful shepherd. "You were going to protect me, weren't you boy? Let's get back in the house, they might come back."
As they walked back on the path, Lance didn't notice the beautiful night or the fireflies, he was too busy wondering just who "they" were. Couldn't have been good...he trusted Demian's judgement. Should he call the Sheriff's Department? Nah, they'd think he was crazy...maybe Jesse...he'd call Jesse. How did UFO's figure into all this?
After a short, restless nap Horace spent some time reading the stock quotes from Friday, and as the evening wore on watched one television program with Marianne. "Think I'll go out and walk off that wonderful dinner," he told her. He often went for a walk around their property once it cooled down at night. The full, brilliant moon backlit Signal Knob, which towered over their two acres. He never looked at it that he didn't marvel at what a privilege it was to live here, sheltered by a mountain that both the North and South had used to signal troops during the Civil War. If that mountain could talk, the stories it could tell. He approached the "Chipping Tree" on the northeast corner of the property, Horace put one arm part way around the trunk of the old tree, like greeting a fond friend. When they had built the house thirty years ago, farmers nearby had told them the story of the tree. Indians had sat beneath its branches chipping arrowheads. Sure enough, they had found several at the tree's base. The graceful old oak had stood for years, staring down at the north fork of the Shenandoah River. He turned and looked back at the sprawling brick home he had worked so hard to build and maintain--so many treasured memories there. He loved to see it at night, warm yellow lights shining brightly from the windows, like friendly beacons into the darkness.
Worry had been slowly sneaking up on him all evening--a thief stalking his footsteps to steal his peace of mind--his nest egg he had worked a lifetime to build...his Social Security. He messaged his forehead. Was Jesse right? Should he be preparing? Could the EMP thing cause a total collapse of the economy? If the bottom falls out of the stock market...if there's no food…rioting? How could all this be happening? He clutched