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Rated: E · Book · Emotional · #2307137
A hamlet in a remote region of its island country experiences the effects of the Rapture.
#1059809 added December 31, 2023 at 2:06am
Restrictions: None
Stories of the Seventeen
"Well, Folks, here we are out in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, 25 miles away from the island we used to live on, that apparently crumbled to the bottom of the sea, due to that last earthquake, which finished her off," said Chief Bud Best, "but other than that it has been a good day, hasn't it?"

The little congregation looked at each other at first mystified, then bemused, then tickled in a very deep place. Everyone started laughing uproariously, making the boat rock more than the waves had been rocking it.

As the laughter started to die down, Bud said, "That felt good, didn't it? That's all I wanted. I wasn't serious. I simply wanted to make you laugh. I'm following the advice of Proverbs 17:22, KJV, 'A merry heart doeth good like a medicine: but a broken spirit drieth the bones.' The sadness we've been feeling, actually dries up the marrow in our bones, and the bone marrow is part of the lymphatic system, which keeps our bodies well. However, laughter causes the bone marrow to produce more, making us healthier."

"We were starting to think you'd lost your mind, Chief, but I knew that wasn't right," Jerome said. "What is the good that can come out of this?"

"We can't make plans with people, who are dying on the inside," Bud said. "I had to restart your health system. You all need to want to live. Our friends died because they couldn't get to the boat, or were providentially hindered in some way, but we lived. Let's honor our friends by continuing to live, finding a way to reestablish life somewhere in their honor and memory. Fair enough? Let's start by giving a roll call of the living. Jerome, do you have any paper, near your control panel, that is dry enough to take notes on?"

"Amazingly enough, someone put a legal pad in a quart-sized baggie, and sealed it in the glove box," Jerome smiled. "I think we can do this."

"Jerome, take notes on the things, I'm about to say," Bud smiled. "First of all, I'm going to count off the number and name of every person I see on the boat, numbering them in the order, that I see them, not the number of their value. I can't count that high." He winked.

"Pen at the ready, Chief," Jerome said. "Start numbering."

Bud holds his hand in front of his face. "Ergo, I see Bud Best, first. He's 'the guy in the mirror,' at least he was in the mirror I used to have."

Everyone chuckled.

"Secondly, I see Jerome First," Bud said with a wry little wrinkle in his voice. "Of course, in this case, I'm seeing him second. However, he'll always be First in my book."

No one could hold back. They all laughed out loud. Some were nearly stripping a gear."

"Number three, I see Rich Deux," Bud said. "This will never do. I didn't plan this very well, did I? Everyone knows, that 'Deux' in French means, 'Two' in English. So, there we have it third place for Mr. Two. Sorry Rich."

The laughter picked up, again, and died back.

"Number four goes to George Board," Bud smiled. "I couldn't think of anything funny to say this time, George. I guess I got bored. Or you are."

The laughter was a powder keg, that the least little spark could fan into flames. This was catharsis. The whole community needed hearts, that were light, and outlooks, that were sunny.

"Don't worry, Anyone," Bud said. "I think I need to be a bit more serious, now. I don't want to forget my place in the count. Number 5 is Grady Barnes, the last one officially in the boat."

All cheered.

"Number 6 is Bubba John Trax, and number 7 is his wife, Pearl. Number 8 is Lem Cutter and number 9 is his wife, Cora. Number 10 is Calvin Tulip, whose last name means a whole new thing to me, at least, and number 11 is his wife, Grace. Number 12 is Pace Kerr, and number 13 is his wife, Varuma. Number 14 is Altimus Gonzalez, and numero 15 (quince) es su esposa, Rosa. (They smiled.) Number 16 is Israel Incarnación, and numero 17 (diez y siete) es su esposa, Libertad. Number 18 is Griffin Fliar, and number 19 is his wife, Phoenix. Drum roll, please."

They all rapped on the side of the boat.

Bud winked at Cyni, "And last, but certainly not least is number 20, Cynthia Best," Bud smiled. "Sorry to wait so long, Sweetheart, but you knew I'd have to save the Best for last."

Another round of uproarious laughter ensued.

"Now, I think it would be good to remember the stories of the neighbors we lost today," Bud said. "Since I don't see Stan on the boat, would anyone like to tell me what happened to one of our four amazing support officers?"

Grace Tulip held up her hand. "I saw the whole thing, Sir.

Mrs. Myrtle Haymaker was having quite a time of it, getting to the boat, and Officer Stan Book saw her and ran to her putting her left arm around his neck. He seemed to want her to lean her weight on him as he began nearly carrying her to the boat. They were about halfway to the boat when the first big wave was at the edge of the island. She shouted, 'Leave me. Run to the boat. You can make it.' His response was, 'I won't leave you, Mrs. Myrtle. If you're going to see Jesus, then I will be your escort.' He hugged her close. That was it. Seconds later, the wave knocked them both over, burying them in a watery grave. Earthly life snuffed out. Eternal life, no doubt shined bright in the Presence of The Lord because of The Lord."

"Thank you, Grace," Bud said, wiping a tear. "They will always be missed, but they died in victory. Who else is missing? Who has that story?"

Jerome said, "I couldn't leave the boat because of my duties as driver, but about 50 feet ahead of me were Jim & Jerrielyn School, the married teachers of our fifth and sixth graders. They were headed our way when the earthquake knocked them both off their feet. Jim jumped right back up, ready to run, but Jerrielyn's foot stuck fast in a newly formed fissure. Jim caught himself and went back to help Jerrielyn get her foot out of the mud. Try as they might, they were still straining at her foot, and digging around it when the first wave slammed into them, taking them from us with finality. Jim could have made it to the boat in time, but, no doubt, the cords of love were what bound him to Jerrielyn as surely as the mud held her foot."

"Thanks, Jerome," Bud said as he and the rest of the community wiped away tears. "That makes four of our 17 precious souls, that did not make it to this moment with us. Who else has a story they'd like to tell?"

Pace said, "I'll go, Chief."

"Be my guest," Bud said.

"Christopher and Ellie Jacobson were probably the furthest away from the boat when they started their run," Pace said. "They had been taking a walk around the water's edge on the front lawn of the church building when the earthquake knocked them down. They were both young enough to hop right back to their feet and start running flat-out toward the boat, but as they rounded the side of the church, Christopher saw the wave was already lifting the boat. He stopped in his tracks, held his wife, looked in her eyes, and I saw him mouthing the words, 'I love you' as the wave knocked them off their feet, and out of our lives."

Bud waited a moment as they all wiped tears, and then he said, "Young love, dying together. That's the stuff of romantic novels. Let's take a few minutes to think about these three accounts. 6 out of 17 is about a third of those we've lost today. I'm sure we'll be ready to hear more accounts when we've processed and tucked these away in our long-term memory. Rest your fingers, Jerome. Give yourself time to think."

Silence, except for the rocking of the boat, and the waves rolling underneath.

When Bud finally looked up, Altimus raised his hand. "Yes, Atlimus? Do you have a story to tell?"

"Yes, I do," he said, "As I stepped into the boat from the right side, my eyes caught something happening near the parsonage. Three couples started a little later than the rest of us. They ran out of the house toward the boat, not seeing that a sea crocodile was waiting for them. They were on top of him before they realized their mistake. In a heartbeat, the croc had grabbed Esther Daniels by the legs, and her husband, Timothy, started trying to wrestle the croc into submission, but the croc knocked him off with its tail, like a child's toy. Justin & Justine Laws came to the rescue with Justine grabbing Esther in a bearhug, not letting go, and Justin giving Timothy assistance in the wrestling match. Malachi & Naomi Journeys, also, joined in the rescue with Naomi grabbing Esther, and Malachi doing the best he could to grab the writhing reptile in an attempt to make the big animal let go of their precious friend. The battle continued all the while the big wave came. With the men still fighting, and the women still struggling, the wave slammed into the mass of humanity and creaturehood, burying them all, but I lost focus when the wave hit us. I can only imagine what happened afterward. Since crocs don't let go once they latch onto their prey, it probably death-rolled its victim, but if God is merciful, (and I believe he is,) then Mrs. Esther was already dead before it finished her. Gallant men and women in such a terrible loss have my great respect, now and forever."

"Ours, too," Bud said, wiping another tear.

"Let me go next, Chief," George said.

"Of course, Sir," Bud said. "Have at it."

"Darius and Ettamelle Josephs were around the parsonage when they saw the big wave," George said, "They picked up their pace into a run, but as they were swimming across the crevasse the wave overtook them, waylaying them without ceremony."

"Almost the exact same thing happened to Boaz and Ruth Goël about 20 feet further away in the crevasse, who were running from the back of the property on the parsonage side," said Rich. "They never had a chance to get into the boat because the wave took them away, too."

"Thank you, George and Rich, for these accounts of our dear friends," Bud said. "We're all sad at these losses, but by my count, that's only 16. Does anyone know what happened to the other?"

Israel said, "I know it, Sir. May I tell you?"

"Please, do, Israel," Bud said.

"Olne Rushing had come from the parsonage, too, but he was alone and faster than the couples. He had trotted across the lawn, swam the crevasse with ease, and ran toward the boat as the wave hit us with full force. He reached his hand to me. I touched his fingertips as the boat lifted off the ground, and he washed away in the swelling tide."

"Mil gracias, Israel," Bud said. "Our tears have great feeling in these losses, but at least we now have stories to remember, and last moments to treasure. Let's take a few more moments of silence to cry, to reflect, and to give our hearts the opportunity they need to process all they've experienced this day. There'll be more to talk about, I'm sure, but for now, we give them honored silence and remembrance."

Silence. Boat creaking. Waves lapping against the boat.

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