Prophecy

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Then,
I saw a
beast
rising
out of the
sea,
with ten
horns
and
seven
heads.
[Revelation 13:1]
*****************************

Two police officers are walking around,
a shiny-blue Honda Civic, on North I35,
on the road to Austin: checking the
license plates, and talking on their
police phones. One is typing on a
small, official-looking notepad.

Becky and Allen Thompson
are hiding in the grass, down in a
small valley of creosote bushes.
If it had been summer,
they would be perishing of thirst
and heat prostration. But,
thankfully...it was NOVEMBER...
in south Texas. The only things
they had to look out for
were the coyotes....
the fire-ant mounds....
the scorpians...and desert rats,
and the hornets' nests....
and, the rattlesnakes.
______________________________________
(Anxious whisper.)
"When are they going to LEAVE,
ALLEN?"

(Whisper: a weary male voice.)
"As soon as they get a MAKE on it.......
then, they'll probably have it TOWED.."

(Whisper: almost a cry.)
"What are we going to......DO,
ALLEN?
WHAT......?"

"SHHHH!"
(Alan holds up his hand, impatiently.)
"I wish I could HEAR...what they
were SAYING! DAMNIT!"

(Becky, feeling light-headed,
sinks her tousled head down into
the thick, brown grass. It smells
of Texas countryside: dry, dusty,
and rich with desert life.
The only moisture she can
feel are the salty tears on her face.
She whispered to herself: holding
onto her bulging belly. At six months,
because of her young, petite frame, she
was just barely obvious.)
"What are we DOING?
What are we DOING OUT HERE?
Ohhhhhh...."

(Allen waves away a nat, buzzing
about his sweaty face. Being an
accountant for a large bank in
town, Allen never went outside:
unless it was to unpack the car
full of groceries. He had never gone
fishing his whole adult life,
or even been to a rodeo. Allen's
idea of adventure was being at a
Spurs' game, with his company's
seasons tickets....and shouting
along with his basketball-buddies.
And, even for November,
the south Texas sun was warm,
and very bright.)
"I don't KNOW.......Becky.....
I just don't KNOW......"
(Allen sighs.)
"Maybe, we should just give ourselves
IN......."

(Becky whimpers into the shoots of
rough grass. A tiny, gray spider crawls
up her hand, but she doesn't notice.)
"NO!
NO!
NEVER!"

"BECKY! You need your MEDICINE!
You've already missed......two DAYS!"

"NO!
NO!
I don't CARE!"

(Allen sinks down in the grass,
beside his huddled, pregnant wife,
who had not changed out of her delicate-
looking, light-blue linen maternity suit,
which she had worn the day before at the bank...
before they had run out of the house.
He gives a deep sigh; up on the highway,
the two police are still talking into their
phones, and walking around the abandoned,
almost-new, well-maintained car. They were
finding no drugs inside, of course: just
a few pillows and blankets, several small
coolers of mineral water, some bags of
fruit and nuts, some candy bars, two little
containers of car-safe-emergency kits,
and a hastily packed bag of underwear and
toiletries.)
"BECKY........you can't just IGNORE IT.
You're going to get very SICK......if
we don't your medicine, very SOON....
and the BABY...!"

(Becky is sobbing into the grass;
she sees the tiny spider now, which
seems oddly comforting. She cries
in a hushed whisper.)
"THEN, I'LL DIE OUT HERE!
I DON'T CARE!
I'LL NEVER GO BACK!"

(Allen pushes one hand through his
sweat-dampened mop of curly brown hair.
He sighs, once more: muttering to himself.)
"Maybe, it isn't so BAD........"

"NO!
NEVER!
NEVER!
I'D RATHER DIE!"

(Allen's jaw clamps down, in
anger. He tastes blood,
and realizes he's bitten his tongue.)
"BECKY! This is DIFFERENT!
It ISN'T GERMANY!
THIS IS DIFFERENT!
This is SURVIVAL!"

"NO!
NO!
IT'S THE SAME!
IT'S THE
SAME THING!
JUST LIKE MOM'S GRANDPA!"

"NO! IT ISN'T! HE WAS FORCED
INTO THAT, BECKY!
HE WAS FORCED INTO THAT!
STOP THINKING THAT WAY!"
(Alan lifted his head just a half-inch
in the grass; he squinted against the
bright noonday sun. The police were
getting back in their car now: stopping
for a moment to take another long look
around at the seemingly empty Texas
countryside. The big sky overhead
was cloudless, and dry: not a drop
of moist air, even for the lonely birds.)
"WE HAVE A CHOICE!
WE HAVE A CHOICE!"

(Becky was silent; she was now
huddled up, in the dry grass, almost
curled up in a fetal position, like
the little boy in her stomach: quietly
sobbing. Then, her protest came out
in a weak cry.)
"NO! We.......DON'T!
NO, WE DON'T!
IF WE GO BACK........!"

(Allen watched, intensely, as
the police finally slammed both
doors of the police vehicle.....and,
turned their car around: heading back
toward I35 South. The road was eerily
quiet for the middle of a usually busy
Saturday afternoon. Not another car
was in sight.)
"Listen.......we're gonna WAIT here,
a FEW more MINUTES......and,
then I'm going to run up to the CAR....
are YOU going to be OKAY?"

(Becky only nodded; her chestnut-
colored hair was falling over her
pretty face, and her narrow shoulders
were hunched over, as if she was
trying to hide something very precious.)

"OKAY?"

(Becky nodded.)
(She whimpered.)
"Yes."

(Alan sighed.)
"OKAY........
LISTEN, BECKY.......
your Mom's GRANDPA...had it
DIFFERENT.....he was CAUGHT up
in SOMETHING...and, he couldn't
ESCAPE. At least, not THEN.......
this is DIFFERENT..."

"HE NEVER LOST IT!
HE NEVER LOST IT!
THAT HORRIBLE TATTOO!"

"I KNOW......I KNOW.
I HEARD your Mom TALK about it.....
but, this is DIFFERENT. We have
to SURVIVE. It's not just JEWS,
now.....it's EVERYONE......we've ALL
got to HAVE IT.........HOW am I
going to get your MEDICINE,
if WE don't HAVE IT? THINK!
THINK!"

"I'll NEVER HAVE IT!
I'LL NEVER GET THAT
AWFUL....TATTOO!
EVER!
EVER!"

(Allen got into a running position,
as if he were about to start a marathon.
Before taking another move, though,
he carefully looked up the grassy knoll:
looking this way, and that.
For a moment, he slipped his hand
into his pants pocket: fingering his cell.
Then, he slipped it out, again.)
"BECKY. This ISN'T Nazi GERMANY.
We're HERE: in the STATES.....
we can HAVE our old LIFE, BACK.....
have our old LIFE back.......EVERYTHING....."

"WHAT? If we GIVE IN?
GIVE IN?
NEVER!
Is THAT what you WANT?"

(Allen bent forward for a moment:
retying his running shoes. Gratefully,
last night, when they had left in such
a hurry, he had just come back from
running....and, hadn't gotten out of
his exercise clothes, yet. He shook
his head, while he talked quietly.)
"Becky.......you have to face FACTS....
we're CITY people......not, Davey
CROCKETT and his PIONEER WIFE.
What are we going to DO, out HERE...
STARVE? Our GAS is almost EMPTY!
HOW are we going to get GAS......if
we don't have a MARK on? THINK!"

"There must be OTHERS.....Allen!
OTHERS! THERE MUST BE!
Maybe, if we just go a little ways
FURTHER...."

"Till, WHAT?
We RUN out of GAS?
And......you KEEL OVER, with
DEHYDRATION? And....
WHO WOULD WANT TO HELP US?
WE'RE just like FUGITIVES!"

"NO!
We HAVE to go ON!"
(Becky moved in the grass: about to
stand up. She suddenly put her head
down: the grass beneath her pretty,
light-blue pumps was spinning.
Becky fell back onto the grass:
laying her burning head
on a patch of pebbly, rocky soil.)
"Oh.
Oh."

"BECKY!"

"I'm.......I'm ALRIGHT...
just some MORNING SICKNESS.."

"I THOUGHT THAT WAS ALL
DONE?"

(Becky just moaned. Then, she
crawled a few feet away, quickly,
and vomited.)
"Oh...."

(Allen put both his sweaty hands
on his wife's shuddering shoulders.
He spoke as gently as he could.)
"I'm going back to the CAR,
Becky. Just STAY HERE.....
WAIT FOR me.......OKAY?"
(Allen kissed the top of his wife's
head; her hair was damp with sweat,
and smelled like the place where he
and his step-Dad used to go camping, out
in the Texas hill country. Suddenly
the memory, of his step-Dad's laughing face
in the camp's firelight, made Allen's
eyes glaze over with hot tears.)
"I'll be BACK.....I'll bring the COOLER,
OKAY? You're gonna get DEHYDRATED....
if you don't get some WATER....
into you SOON...."

(Becky nodded. She coughed, again.
But, the vomiting had stopped.)

"Good. I'll be right.....BACK."

(Becky wiped her tears on the
front of her light-blue,
stained blouse. Crawling back
to her sitting position on her
ripped and blood-spotted nylons,
near the crest of the hill,
she slumped down: resting her
clammy cold forehead on the backs
of her small, thorn-scratched hands.
Becky looked down:
the tiny gray spider had crawled away
into the grass. She wished fervently
that she were that spider: free........
free.....and, camouflaged...
from the human eye, in the tall Texas
grass.)
"Okay........
Yeah......"
(Becky gave a weary sigh.
She nodded, again......
in resignation.)
"OKAY."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
{Four days later: in a long, busy line,
at Walmart.}

"BECKY!
HOW'S CHIPPIE, DOIN'?"

"Oh, FINE........
Roberta! He's FINE!
Did SAM give you the CASSAROLE,
I MADE for ya'll? I TOLD him...
to put it in the FRIDGE....till,
you got BACK."

"YES! THANK YOU!
That was LOVELY, of YOU!
THANK....you, so MUCH!
TRISH and I...HOPE you're
FEELING BETTER.....
ALLEN TOLD US....you had
been SLEEPING a LOT...."
(Roberta put her hand on her
younger neighbor's small shoulder.
She lowered her voice,
to a sympathetic whisper.)
"WE.....HOPE....you're FEELING...
BETTER....."

"Oh, YES!
YES!
MUCH BETTER!"
(Becky shook her pretty
chestnut-colored curls, and
laughed. She gently touched her
bulging stomach, under the pretty
yellow maternity dress. Her beautiful
young face reminded Roberta of
an actress from long ago, named
Katherine Ross, at the end of an old movie,
'The Stepford Wives*': just like
a pretty, plastic doll......a robot.)

"I can't BELIEVE NOW.....
how SILLY we were BEING!
To THINK.......we ALMOST......!"
(Becky laughed again. She stopped
to smile broadly at her older neighbor.)
"I can't THANK YOU again......!
For taking care of CHIPPIE.....while
we were.....gone! It was just a little
DAY TRIP......but, we're SO GLAD,
that we're BACK! Would you and
SAM....PLEASE come for dinner, on
Sunday NIGHT? ALLEN's going
to BARBECUE!"

(Roberta nodded. A small chill
was going up her spine; the memory
of Katherine Ross's glassy-eyes
at the end of that movie was
unbelievably vivid, for a second or two.
Then, she recovered her thoughts.)
"GREAT! GREAT! I'LL BRING
MY BEAN CASSAROLE....OKAY?"

"Could YOU ask.....TRISH,
and HER HUSBAND....TOO?
THAT would be AWESOME."
(Becky reached up to scratch
her forehead, again; she had
been doing it, all day.)

"HONEY? JUST......"
(Roberta leaned foward on her
shopping cart to whisper,
in a spirit of neighborly
camaraderie.)
"JUST PUT A LITTLE NEOSPORIN
ON IT, for a COUPLE DAYS.....
it'll HEAL UP....FAST......
in a few DAYS.....
you WON'T even
KNOW........
it's THERE."

(Becky leaned forward also,
and nodded: beaming a big,
happy smile.)
************************************
Then,
I saw another beast....
it causes all,
both small and great,
both rich and poor....
to be marked
on the right hand
or
the forehead,
so that no one
can buy
or
sell
unless he has
the mark....
of the beast.
[Revelation 13:11-17]
________________________
*A 1975 horror film.


Copyright 2011.

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