Loss of Faith

Loss of Faith

I first met those people on a street in Brockton. I spent most of my time on that street, because it was close to a building which had been a convenience store. That meant that there was plenty of food, and plenty of magazines to look at. The magazines were fun, but lately I had begun to wonder if I would ever see a real live woman again. For some reason, the few people I had seen since the war were men and they had not been particularly loving. So you can imagine my astonishment when I heard a definitely female voice cry out. I grabbed the rifle which I always carried and rushed outside.

Two people were being accosted by a couple of the punks who prowled around Brockton these days. One was an older man with thinning gray hair who was waving a book at them. The other was a pretty blonde girl who didn't look much older then twenty. The girl was just sobbing with fright. The man was yelling at the punks. "Have mercy on us, be saved, and mercy shall be given to you."

Neither of the punks seemed much interested. They were laughing and waving switch blades. Well, if I had been smarter, I probably would've ignored the whole thing and gone about my business. But I was something of a sucker, so I cocked my rifle, and called out "Hey! Leave them alone!"

The punks turned and looked at me. I could tell by the sneers on their faces that they weren't going to lay off that easily. "Yeah," said one of them, "What are you going to do about it?"

I decided that there was only one way to answer that. I fired a quick shot which went into the punk's scalp. He keeled over dead.

The remaining one turned and looked at me with surprise. "Had enough?" I asked. The punk snarled, but there was fear in his eyes too. After a moment, he gave me one last sneer and sauntered off.

The old man rushed towards me and began pumping my hand. "Thank you, sir," he gasped.

The girl was a little more reserved. She kept her distance, but she said, "thank you," in a voice that I thought was soft and sweet.

"You're welcome," I said. "But what are you two doing here anyway?"

The old man seemed to brighten. "I am Pastor Roger Davidson, and this is my assistant, Hope Carter."

Pastor? I didn't like the sound of that. I don't much care for Pastors. My fears were confirmed when he asked, "Are you a Christian?"

"Didn't think there were any left," I said.

"I know," said the Pastor not taking my hint. "The war has caused many to lose faith. I suppose that's your problem, too. But the light of Jesus never dies. It is our mission to bring people back to the lord."

"Look, with me, it has nothing to do with the war," I said trying to hide my irritation. "I had no use for you Bible thumpers before the war, and I have no use now." I thought that would be a good point to leave, but I happened to glance at the girl, Hope, who was still trembling with fear. It made me stop and turn around. "Look," I said, "can I at least give you a ride somewhere?"

The Pastor's face lit up and I think Hope's did too, just a little. "A ride?" said the Pastor. "Do you mean to say that you have a car?"

Now, I couldn't help feeling a little proud. "I refurbished her after the war. Her top speed is only about thirty miles per hour, but it still beats walking."

"Halleujah!" shouted the Pastor. "God has answered our prayers." Then, seeing that I was a little embarrassed he said, "Will you take us to Boston?"

I groaned. "That's a little farther then I had in mind. What do you want to go there for, anyway?"

"We are on a most important mission from God. Have you heard of the goddess, Tro?"

That stopped me. I had heard of the goddess, Tro, but rumours mainly. Apparently, after the infrastructure broke down in Boston, some people still managed to hang around the ruins. The really weird part was that some of the people had begun a new religion or maybe a cult around a goddess named Tro. I had spoken with a few drifters from up in that direction, who had mentioned the cult. Some people talked about it as just a bunch of nutcases, but a few other people claimed that the cult was actually very powereful and well on its way to rebuilding Boston.

"We are," the Pastor went on, "going to meet with these worshippers of Tro and bring them back to the one true way."

Well, that didn't sound like a particularly worthwhile expedition, but I couldn't help wanting to go. Why? Well, I guess for one thing, I was curious to see what was really going on with Tro. But there was another reason, and it appeared to me at just that moment.

"You will help us, won't you?" It was Hope. She had a pleading expression on her face. "It's-it's very important. We can pay you."

I couldn't help laughing at that. "With what? American dollars?"

My laughter seemed to distress her. "You don't understand how important it is. I would do anything." She moved in closer to me as if to suggest that she would do "anything".

I think the Pastor must have had the same ideas that I did because he uncomfortably stepped between us. "Seriously, sir. Hope is a good sister in Christ. Sometimes, she has some crazy ideas, but the fact is that this is a chance for you to save your soul. Will you do it?"

I sighed. "Fine. I'll go. You can call me, 'Jake'. Let's leave as soon as possible."

I led them to my refurbished corvette. Once she had been a quite a car, but like everything else after the war, she wasn't much to look at now. When they got in the car, the Pastor said that he was feeling a bit tired and asked if he could lie down in the back seat, while Hope rode shotgun. That was fine with me, particularly the part about Hope riding shotgun.

For the first half hour of the journey, Hope sat very still and did not have much to say. When we heard a loud snore coming from the backseat, she smiled a little for the first time.

"He has the worst sleep apnea," she said.

"So I see," I said.

"Jake," she said, "what did you do before the war?"

I hated that question. "I was actually in the marines. But as luck would have it, I was sent home just before the war broke out. I didn't have much of a life as a civilian, so I just sat around my apartment applying to jobs. Because of the war, I might have been recalled to duty, but the war was so quick that pretty soon there wasn't anyone left to recall me." I looked at her. "What about you?"

She smiled. "I was a college student at Virginia Tech. That's where I met Pastor Davidson, because he was the Christian chaplain there. It's a good thing that I'm a Christian, because after the bombs fell on Washington, Pastor took all of us Christian students under his wing and protected us."

"What a guy!" I said sarcastically.

"Well, he is. He's going to bring the world back to Jesus, and when he said that he wanted to meet with these Tro worshippers, I convinced him that I would make the best assistant, because I was originally from Boston."

"Oh really," I said. Somehow, I got the feeling that this was part of the puzzle. "Is that why you're so anxious? Because you want to see your home again?"

The question had a strange effect. It made her stop smiling instantly. "That's. . .part of the reason. . ." she said sadly.

I could tell there was more to this story, but I didn't want to pry. As it turned out, I didn't have to, because she went on, "Jake, do you have any brothers or sisters?"

"I had two brothers and one sister."

"Oh. Did they die in the war?"

"Believe or not, none of them lived to see the war. One of the brothers got killed in a drive-by shooting when he was only fourteen, the other was killed by a mugger a few years later, and the sister got into the habit of putting stuff up her nose which finally did her in one day."

"Oh, I'm sorry." She paused uncomfortably, "Maybe they're with God now."

"Whatever."

Hope sighed as if she were trying to decide what to say next. "I had one younger sister. We were very close. Would you like to hear about her?"

"Do I get a choice?"

I immediately regretted my words, because tears formed in her eyes.

"Oh come on," I said. "Don't cry. If you really want to talk about your sister, I guess we don't have anything better to do."

This made her smile, but in kind of a cynical way. "It's not so much that I want to talk about her. It's that. . .Oh well. You see, she was three years younger then me.My parents named her, 'Faith' and I was very proud of that, because it meant that together we were, 'Hope and Faith'. And when we were little, she was a sweet person. Smart too. She knew how to use a computer better then anyone in the family, and got high grades in Math and Science.

"Well, when she was about thirteen, she started turning into a snob, always putting people down and even making rude comments in church. Mom and Dad hoped that she would calm down after she got baptized, but that didn't seem to happen. She got piercings without Mom and Dad's permission. She tried to convince Mom and Dad to let her get tattoos, but they said, 'No way.' But the worst part was when she started cutting herself."

"Cutting herself?"

"Yeah. Once she got a bad cut and we had to rush her to a hospital. She almost lost her fingertip. We all thought it was an accident at first, but later I learned the truth. She had gotten these things from online science journals, and she kept this anatomy book in her room too. It turns out that late at night, she would do these experiments where she would cut open parts of her body and try to put electronic things into herself. When I found out, I tried to stop her. I said, 'Are you crazy?' But she said, 'Not at all.' You know how we talk about evolution in school?'

"I reminded her that that was a myth. They had done a special series about the book of Genesis in church." I tried not to roll my eyes at this. "Anyway," Hope went on, "my sister said, 'it's not a myth. Although, it might not happen quite the way those jerks in Biology class tell us. You know, what's going on in the world. The politicians are starting wars, the workers are protesting, and everyone's destroying the environment. Let's face it. It won't be long before the whole human race goes out like the dinosaurs.' "

Here I couldn't help interrupting. "Sounds like she wasn on to something there."

"Don't say that," said Hope. "I tried to tell her that she just needed more faith, but she laughed at that. 'Don't tell me about faith. After all, I was named for Faith, so I should know all about it. Seriously, the world has enough of it. If the next wave of humans is going to develop, someone's going to have take matters into their own hands. That's what I'm doing. These things which I put in my body can make me stronger, faster, maybe even smarter then any human being. I'll be the next phase of human development."

"You come from an interesting family," I said.

"That's true," Hope admitted with a sigh. "Very true."

Then she became oddly quiet.

Several hours later, we reached the limits of Boston. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but I was surprised when two motorcycles came racing forward to meet us. At first, I thought the riders were punks, but then I saw that they were dressed a little too well. They wore black outfits, but they also had purple armbands which almost looked like uniforms of some kind.

"Halt!" called out one of them in a disciplined voice. "In the name of the goddess, Tro, state your business."

The Pastor, who had woken up by this point, said, "We have come here on a mission for our Lord, Jesus Christ. We do everything in his name, not Tro's."

"Pastor, I don't think we're going to get very far that way," said Hope.

"Well, there's always my way," I said grabbing my rifle.

"No," shouted Hope. "Let me do it." She turned to the bikers. "Gentlemen, can you communicate with Tro, directly?"

"All members have a direct connection to the goddess," said one of the bikers proudly.

"Then, please tell her that Hope Carter is here and that I wish to see her very much."

The biker actually looked at Hope over the top of his sunglasses. " You know, when I first joined this religion, people thought I was weird. What makes you think that's going to accomplish anything, Lady?"

I was wondering the same thing myself. I glanced at the Pastor, but he looked as puzzled as I felt. One of the bikers shrugged and stepped to the side. Maybe he was calling someone on a radio of some kind, but when he came back, he looked very surprised. "The goddess is willing to meet you," he said with disbelief, "but you'll have to put your weapons aside."

"Of course," said the Pastor, "we are on a mission of peace, and we do not carry weapons."

"Speak for yourself," I said gripping my rifle tighter.

"Well," said Hope faintly, "you were only supposed to drive us. You could leave now, if you wanted to." She managed to say it in a way which made me think that she didn't want that to be the case.

I sighed. "I've been with you a little too long to drop out now. I'll put the rifle aside."

The Pastor nodded and Hope smiled a little.

They led us into Boston. It was strange. I had not been in Boston very much before the war, but when I had, it was always filled with cars, buses, and people. Now, the streets were oddly deserted except for a few people here and there. All of them wore the purple armbands.

When I saw that they we were being led to the North End, I was a little bit startled. "Hey," I said with some excitement, "we're going to the TD Banknorth Garden." I turned to the Pastor. "Did you follow sports before the war?"

"Some," he said smiling in spite of himself, "but I never cared much for the Celtics or the Bruins."

"It wasn't just for sports," said Hope quietly.

"Yeah, I know," I said, "once I went to a Stones concert there and-"

"Four years before the war," Hope interrupted, "my parish celebrated its anniversary with a huge service in the Garden. It was one of our proudest moments."

The Pastor looked a little embarrassed that he hadn't known that. I decided to keep quiet.

Our captors led us into the Garden past things that I couldn't help recognizing as the ticket booth and the souvenir shop. and into the main arena. We were actually standing in the bleachers and the entire place looked dark. I felt kind of sad in there, because it did remind me of happier days when my friends and I had gone to basketball games. Hope also looked nostalgic, but for a slightly different reason. "I think this is near where I sat for the anniversary service," she murmured to herself.

Suddenly, the lights came up, there was a loud fanfare, and a figure leaped out of the shadows landing perfectly on its feet in the center of the arena.

"Kneel before the goddess," ordered one of our captors.

"We only kneel before Jesus!" declared the Pastor bravely.

The captor responded by hitting him with a club. He doubled over.

"Never mind that," said a deep but feminine voice. I realized it must have come from the figure in the arena. I looked at the figure closely and realized that it looked like a young girl with sort of dark hair that had been closely cut. Was this the goddess, Tro? She somehow did not look all that imposing. She walked to the bleachers with strides that were too long for a girl that size and stared at us, or rather stared at Hope.

"Hello," she said.

"Hello, Faith," said Hope evenly.

"It's Tro, now," said the goddess.

Faith? For some reason, I glanced at the Pastor, who was recovering from being hit on the head. "Faith is Hope's little sister," I said. The Pastor nodded. "Well, did you know that Tro is--?" He shook his head no.

"This brings back memories," Hope went on. "Do you remember the day you were baptized?"

The goddess didn't seem to mind the impudence, but she did not smile. "How could I forget being in this room with all those people and experiencing that Catch-22 of embarrassment?"

"Catch-22?" asked Hope.

"Yes, to scream, 'Jesus is Lord' in front of all those people like a ninny was degrading, but to actually not do it, would have been even more embarrassing, so I did. And then I had to let the Pastor dunk me. That was a laugh and a half."

"I remember the day," Hope went on nostalgically. "I was standing over here, and I felt so excited for you. I stood up, because I wanted to be one of the first people to hug you." She paused and seemed to come back to the present. "I don't suppose I could get a hug, now."

"Aside from being blasphemous, it would probably be uncomfortable for you." As if to demonstrate, she beckoned to one of the guards. He stepped forward nervously. She stretched out her arms and placed her palms on his forehead. A few seconds later, her hands began to glow. The guard seemed to feel pain. He let out a loud cry as flame seemed to come from Tro's hands and ignited his face.

Even Tro's worshippers seemed a little bit shocked by this. They murmured among themselves, but did not do anything. Tro was nonchalant. She stepped back a few steps as if inviting us to view what she had done while the guard writhed in pain as his head burned. Then, Tro jumped into the air, a good six feet and seemed to land intentionally on top of the guard knocking him down. She stayed on top of him for a few minutes and smothered the flames with her own body. Then she stood up apparently unharmed and brushed herself off. She pointed to the smouldering body. "This one died well for Tro. Bury him properly." Two others came in and nervously carried the body away.

The display affected each of us differently. I was simply beginning to hate myself for agreeing to come on this trip. Hope looked dazed with shock that her sister could do such a thing. The Pastor, on the other hand, seemed somehow renewed to action. "Well," he said drawing himself up, "I think you all should know that this is not a goddess. She is a charlatan and a fraud. I did not know until today that she is actually my assistant's sister. But now that I know, I can tell you that she is nobody to worship. Your goddess is just a foolish idol. Now is your chance to repent and turn back to the true God and his son, Jesus."

His speech caused a bit of a stir among the worshippers, but Tro looked nonplussed. "Would you like to prove that, Sir?" she asked. A smile crossed her lips. "If your god is so real, perhaps he can light me on fire. Care to try it? You'll be sort of like that guy, Elijah."

The Pastor actually stepped back a few steps. He murmured something about "not putting the Lord to the test", but I could see that he was really just plain scared.

There was a long silence.

But it was broken by Hope.

"Jesus didn't wet his pants when he was five."

It produced a bit of laughter in the room, from the worshippers.

"What are you talking about?" asked Tro puzzled.

"Everyone," Hope went on, "I just thought you'd like to know that when your goddess was five years old she wet her pants." The worshippers actually laughed a little louder now. Even I couldn't help smiling in spite of how dire the situation was.

Tro was not amused. She seemed to forget that she was a goddess and took on the demeanor of a teenage girl. "Will you, shut up?" she said.

"Mmm. . .No," said Hope decisively. "I know lots of other great things about your goddess. Like when she was six, she had to go to the doctor for her shots and she bawled like a baby. Then, on the first day of school, I had to walk her to school, but she wouldn't go. She kept hollering 'No wanna go schooool! No wanna go school!'"

Now everyone was laughing except Tro.

"Everyone," said Hope, "I know this is funny, but it's serious too. Do you really want to worship this sad pathetic girl?"

"That does it," Tro raced towards Hope and for a moment I thought that Hope was going to die, but something happened. One of Tro's followers jumped on top of her. He would have died, but then two more and three more and pretty soon several of the followers were on top of Tro and others were trying to join in.

Some of the others were trying to defend their goddess, but that only added to the pandemonium.

I couldn't help feeling witty. "This must be what it was like when the Celtics lost the championship to the Lakers."

"Are you crazy?" gasped out a muffled voice.

It was Tro struggling with her attackers. "You know what I can do." Sure enough, a fire began to burn around the place where Tro and her attackers were located, but Tro shouldn't have done that, because there were too many people attacking her.

The fire grew and grew until it was engulfing the main area of the Garden. With all the confusion, I knew that nocbody could keep us here. I looked at the Pastor. "I think now would be a good time to leave."

The Pastor sighed. "What about Hope?"

"Right," I said. I sprinted over to where Hope had been standing. "Let's get out of here."

"But my sister-" she said with some alarm.

By now, there was nothing but smoke and flame in the area where Tro had been. "There's no chance for her," I said, and I half dragged her away and out of the burning building.

When we were out on the street, the Pastor was the first to speak. "Well, that did not go as I expected it, but I suppose we more or less accomplished our purpose."

I couldn't help feeling a little annoyed. "No thanks to you."

The Pastor looked humbled. "You're quite right." He turned to Hope, who was now staring back at the burning building with tears in her eyes.

"Hey," he said putting an arm around her. "You did well in there. Such courage. Such faith."

At the word, Faith, Hope almost smiled, but in a bitter way. "You know," she said, "that's what 'Tro' means."

"What's what Tro means?"

"Faith," said Hope in a voice that was even sadder then it had been before. " 'Tro' is a Scandinavian word for 'Faith'".



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