He spent nineteen hours traveling the country. He spent the nineteen hours in the same place with a cycling cast of men and women searching for some sunlight. The only sight to see were the lamps lighting the highways or the ones guiding traffic. The world was dim and he was lost inside it. Directionless and blind, he discovered news of the land from those he encountered inside the bus, for the bus was all there was anymore besides the endless highway. He thought life would be brighter and better further south and further west, but all he found were floods and fires and people with lost homes and lost lives.

He tried to keep track of the days because there was naught else to do. Staring off into the blackness behind his window, his wife and daughters cut through the night and he wanted to tell them. To tell them so many things, but there were no words, never had been, but he still hoped.

“Mind if I sit?”

He moved his bag and let her.

“I’m Sheila.”

“David.” They shook hands.

“Where you headed?”

David looked out the window, than back to Sheila. “Not sure.”

“I hear you. It all seems the same now that the sun’s gone.”

“Yeah. Where’d you come from?”

“Same place we all come from.”

“Mysterious.”

“It’s all a mystery these days. We got no sun, but we can still make toast. Whatever’s happening, it lost sense and direction weeks ago.”

David rubbed his hand over his mouth. “Leave anything behind?”

Sheila let her head back and burst with one loud laugh. “Honey, we all left something behind. Probably everything.” She studied David. ”Yeah, but you, you got something big inside those eyes. Something you regret.”

David rubbed his hand through his hair and over his mouth. “I guess you could say that.”

“Not gonna talk about it? That’s fine. A man needs his privacy, especially now when it seems the only thing one can hold onto anymore.” She busied herself digging through her bag.

David stared into the night and saw his own reflection staring back at him just inches away. His wife’s hand stretched towards his chin and he turned his face back to Sheila. “I left my family.”

Her hands stopped and her eyes emptied as if she were gone. David cleared his throat, feeling the bite of vomit, and rubbed his hand over his mouth. “My wife, we were married for six years and I had two children, Therese and Clare. I hadn’t slept for days, but it felt like weeks and the moon disappeared however long ago. I got drunk the night this all started, you know, the night that it still is. I got drunk with some guy I thought was homeless, but I think he was just lost or dead or about to be both. I needed to, I don’t know, I needed to do something, anything. I spent so much time in the same place doing the same thing and I swallowed water and my lungs were full of it, so I left my family, got drunk, saw the sun not rise, and hopped on this bus, or one just like it a few days ago.” His heart raced and his breath was shallow. “You’re the first person I’ve told this to and, I don’t know, I think I killed them.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Her eyes were on him and they were filled with something he could not comprehend. Not sorrow or wrath, but by no means empathy. She closed her bag, stood up, and walked towards the front of the bus. After a few steps she stopped and turned, opened her mouth, then continued to the front of the bus where she sat with a young woman.

He counted the lights of the highway, or tried to, until he felt himself drifting, not to sleep, but to a state of unawareness that condensed his journey into only the hours of conversations he had with strangers and the hours he spent gnashing his teeth and trying to see his family through the blackness. He needed something, even still, but he could no longer say if it was more important than his family or of any importance at all. He wanted to return, take the next bus home, but he wanted to continue on, find that something somewhere, see to the end of the journey, even if it meant the end of it all.

The bus stopped. He did not know where he was, but his legs carried him off the bus and into the night. The bus station was empty but thick with the stench of urine, vomit, and petrol, and he wandered off to where the most light came from. He assumed it was day or whatever day now constituted because the streets were busy and, across the street, at the far end of a plaza, a crowd was formed under bright lights. The clamor reached him, a mix of frenzied zeal and fear.

“Excuse me,” he stopped a man on the sidewalk.

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on over there?”

“Hm.” He followed David’s pointed finger. “Oh, Preacher Man talks every day over there. Riles everyone up with brimstone and damnation and all that.”

“So many believe him?”

“Maybe. Some probably come just to hear what he has to say. You know, the way people would watch reality TV or listen to talk radio. Not so much out of agreeance, but of curiosity. Probably some believe him, though. People believe everything these days. He’s been standing over there for years carrying one of those signs that says, “The End Is Nigh” or whatever and he acts like he knew all along instead of just being some crazy guy in the crowd. He got lucky, in a sense.” He smiled.

David ran a hand over his mouth. “Yeah. Thank you.”

“No problem.” He waved his hand as if tossing the conversation away and walked on to wherever he must go.

David walked to the edge of the crowd and listened.

The Preacher’s voice was shallow and hoarse from his platform. He was a short man with ragged clothes and messy red hair tipped with grey. Age had worn on him and he had the face of a crumbling mountain. ”God is showing us the error of our ways! He has plunged us into night, into the depths of hell, the belly of the beast. The world’s been swallowed and we’re left here to rot. God brought the light, He giveth and He taketh away. Well, taketh He has!” He was animated with uncanny youth and gestured wildly with his arms and stomped his feet. “You, I look at all of you and see the last vestiges of a Godless world. He flooded us before, do you think He won’t again? He’s turned his back, flipped the switch and left us here. Why?! My God! My God! Why hast Thou forsaken us? You know, all of you know why. You killed your unborn children. Oh yes you did, don’t shake your head. He knows. You can lie to me and yourself, but He knows, knew before you even tried. Whores and homosexuals, you’ve thrust God away. You pitiable beasts, you turn on all that you had, on the only thing real whi e clinging to this rock, this earth. Your drugs and your money, your politicians and your debauchery, your sciences and your sins. It’s you who is to blame! His pointed finger waved over the crowd and their hearts beat faster, their eyes deepened, taking in his every movement.

“So what’s to be done? What’s to be done? Show me one righteous man! He asked before, a simple request, but there was no one. God sacked Sodom and Gomorrah, and He’ll do it again. Give me one righteous man in all the world! Even me, even me, I’m no saint, just a sinner like the rest of you, but I try. I try to show you all the way, have been for years. But you walked on by never paying me no mind. Well? What have you to show for it? The earth’s dying! The oceans are swallowing us, the sky’s falling! We built a technological Tower of Babel and God, once again, struck it down and now we’re all lost in the dark.” He prowled over the platform with his hands cupped, carrying the hearts and minds of the crowd, forming them and contorting their shape.

“Bullshit!”

The Preacher stopped and looked down at the man who spoke with a laugh. “What’s your name?”

“John.”

“John who?”

“The fucking Revelator.”

A few in the crowd laughed.

The Preacher smirked and spit. “You see this? You see this man? He throws his spite at me because I call his life into question. His anger unleashes like the animal he is in vulgarities aimed at the only guiding hand God left behind.”

“Isn’t modesty a virtue?”

The Preacher stopped for a second and brought his hand to his chest. “I did not choose to be chosen.”

“How convenient that you were, right? For us, I mean.”

“You see what he’s trying to do, don’t you? Yes, you see. He’s a provocateur, a hater of God and truth. He’s an angry lost man, like all of us, so don’t blame.”

“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m not here.”

“Only anger and spite. A mouth full of venom, like a snake in the weeds.”

John the Revelator jumped on stage. He was thin and young, no older than twenty. “Listen, Preacher Man says it’s the end of the world, and maybe it is. But it’s not because he said so or because some spirits decided they hate us.”

“Then what has happened? Hm? Do you know why the sun stopped rising? Why the moon stopped glowing? Hm?”

“The moon only shines because of the sun, for one thing. It’s a reflection. The sun’ll shine again. I don’t know the reason it went out, but it’s still giving us energy to live on, so we know it’s still out there.”

“Do we? Do we know? What if it’s God who’s keeping us afloat? Keeping life going?”

“I thought he turned his back on us.”

“He tests us. This is part of the final judgment. Who will keep their belief and who will not. It’s all a part of God’s plan and if we were meant to know it, we would.”

“God doesn’t always have the best plans, does he?”

“He has the only plan. The Way, the Truth, and the Light. It’s why there’s no more shine in the world, because we thrust Him away and away he did go.”

“Convenient how you needn’t ever have an answer as long as you can speculate.”

“Then give me an answer. Give them one.” The Preacher pointed to the crowd.

The two men fenced their words at one another, trying to finish the battle with one dexterous lunge. The Preacher seemed to grow with every sentence, his sagging face lighting up, like a flame burst just behind his eyes. John the Revelator stood as if facing a gale, braced against the Preacher’s words.

“Just because we don’t know the reason doesn’t mean there isn’t one.”

“But you’re so certain I’m wrong? Do you hear him? He spits on me, on us, but adds nothing. He’s a detractor, a skeptic, poor on belief and trust. He’s nothing better than a thief!”

“What has religion done for us here? You just scare these people. You cut into their lives and break everything, their beliefs, their families, calling for witch hunts and social purification. For what? He doesn’t ask for money or anything, he just needs your attention. Remember when we used to just call him the crazy signholding guy? Guess what? He’s still that fucking guy. There are millions like him everywhere always so certain the world’s about to collapse. He was just lucky enough to accidentally be right.”

“What if it wasn’t an accident or coincidence?” The voice of a man in the crowd left a smirk on the Preacher’s face.

“Preacher Man says it’s the end of the world and now you believe him because you’re scared. You should be scared. And he might be right, the world might end today, tomorrow, or the next day. But this false belief, this return to religion just because you’re afraid of hell, it’s just another deathbed conversion. If god is real and is behind all this, he’s not going to forget the life you led before today.”

The Preacher stomped his foot.”‘But you can try! You must!”

Faces nodded in agreement.

“Why now then? Why after all this time did god decide to say, Fuck it? Why not a thousand or a hundred years ago? Why not another worldwide flood or just blow it all up? What’s the point of this?”

“Science can’t answer so he rails against belief. He tells you you’re ignorant, wrong. he accuses you, points his finger in anger at you. But what does he or science offer you? There’s no hope there, just a
dissection and numbers and figures.”

“Climate change explains this. It sped up, faster than we could’ve imagined, but it’s all there.”

“Even the shooting star that destroyed France?”

“Statistics explains that. We have craters everywhere, but just because a natural disaster happens in modern times we think god’s at play. And we wouldn’t normally, but everything seems to be happening at once. We’d usually account for it the same way we account for hurricanes and firestorms and floods. There’s no god at play, just nature, just the universe running through its cycles.”

“So this is normal? Do you think this is normal? The sun hasn’t risen in days, but we shouldn’t worry because science says these things just happen!”

“Jesus,”

“Only he will save you!” The Preacher waved his hand over the crowd and then raised it to the sky, pulling their hearts from strings attached to each finger. ‘Only Jesus will allow you to pass through this night! There’s heaven just beyond here, a new daybreak, eternal and blissful if only you turn to Him, get down on your knees, and believe.”

John the Revelator’s fists were clenched. “Hoping is fine, but it doesn’t change anything.”

“Then what will you have us do? Just carry on like this isn’t happening? Boy, you’ve not much life behind you and even less before you, so listen and learn what you can.” The Preacher waved him off stage and turned to the crowd again.

“Tim, maybe you should get down from there.” The soft exasperated voice of a woman spoke.

“Seriously? You’re all going to listen to this lunatic? Everything goes to shit and you forget who you are? You blame yourself, you blame everyone for the earth falling apart? There’s an explanation out there. I know there is.”

“Come on, Tim. Let’s go home.” She reached her hand towards him.

The Preacher’s arms were crossed and a grin hung across his long face. “Go on, Tim the Revelator, momma wants you.”

“Don’t fucking talk to me like that.” His fists were balled and his legs parted like a tiger waiting to pounce.

“The beast rises once more!” The Preacher threw his arms into the air.

“Listen to him! He’s a lunatic, always has been. The only thing that’s changed is the earth went crazy too. Now you believe, now you trust him. Fucking pathetic. All of you.” His face seethed, his eyes dark, boring through each person in the crowd.

“I’m trying to give them hope.” The Preacher put a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

Tim shrugged violently and pushed the Preacher who fell to his back.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” He then jumped off the back of the stage and ran off into the night.

His mother circled the stage and tried to follow after him.

The Preacher stood and dusted himself off. “I am not here to confuse you or to tell you that you’re bad people.” His voice was soft, a priest in the confessional. Leaving behind bombacity and showmanship, he sat on the front of the stage and the crowd tightened. “I’m here to advise you, to try to push you in the right direction. I’m just a man like you. I’m no Jesus, but I’m doing the best I can. And I know you all are, too. We’ll never be perfect and we can’t change what we were, but even whores can be saints. Even fishermen can change the world. Religion…religion is about giving hope, shining a light in the dark brighter than any streetlamp. It’s here to inspire you, to try to give you the answers that science cannot give. How to behave, what to do when your mother dies, when you give a stillbirth, when the stockmarket crashes. What comes after the end, after death. And we don’t know for certain because these answers are God’s and God’s alone. But He gives us clues, He leaves imprints in the sand and the wind. He dips His hand into the hearts of men and inspires even His greatest enemies to be His greatest evangelists. Paul who was Saul, Constantine, Augustine, God moves in mysterious ways and they don’t make sense to us, especially when we don’t have the benefit of looking back and seeing the whole picture. Right now, we’re dots on His canvas and the painting’s not done, but He’s wrapping up. For now, we know nothing but what He’s given us before, what history has to tell us, but someday, maybe after we’re dead, when we’re beside him or tormented in hell, we’ll be able to see what this painting was and where we stood in it. And, for now, the only thing we can do is to do the best we can, to follow God, to kneel down, to pray, and to listen. Because that Dove might sing soon and we’ll all have voices on fire and we’ll see the Gates of Heaven and Jesus will stand there and in that moment you’ll know why you were able to pass through or why you were cast away.”

He raised his eyes and looked in the face of each member of the crowd. “I know it’s terrifying now, but I want you to know that I’m here with you. Yes, I know you all thought I was insane, just another sign holder amongst millions, as he said, but I’ve always been here with you, trying to point you in the right direction. I may not have always gone about it the right way. And, you know, I’m glad John the Revelator who was really Tim was here today because he taught me the most important part of this. I’m not here to scare you into submitting to God, but am here to try and teach you, to lend you a hand when you fall, to pick you up and carry you when you can’t walk yourself. And you’re here to do the same for me, because I fall, too. Soon there’ll be no summers or springs, no songs to sing or love to share. People will turn on one another. I know that’s already begun, but soon, very soon, the rioters will overrun the rest of us, or try to. The Godless hordes will pillage and rip apart the world, and the only way to stop them is to stand together. To shine a light into their darkness. We can find a way through this night. Together we can be so much more and we can live forever. None of us are perfect by ourselves, but, if we try, if we really try, maybe together we can be.”