Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (22 page)

I’m reaching out to all of you because I would truly hate myself for not having issued this warning. So I do so now, and with a clean conscience. What you choose to do with this warning is entirely up to you, but I’m kicking my preparedness efforts into overdrive. I’m doing it because if the Caldera erupts, America will literally change overnight. Everything we know about our country will change, and I mean everything.

Volcanic ash will cover more than half of the United States. In fact, ash will most likely fall here in Texas. What does that mean? It means our food and water will be affected. It means electricity will go out, communications will stop, and ground and air transportation
will cease. It also means our government, even the military, will be helpless to respond to our needs.

When people realize they’re truly on their own - when they realize that the rule of law no longer applies – social chaos will follow. Unfortunately, that’s not all. An eruption of the Yellowstone Caldera will also have global implications. It will affect the world environmentally, economically, and politically, and we’ll be right in the middle of it.

I know this might be hard for you to believe. And I agree, it’s difficult to imagine such a disaster could happen to us here, in America, but the reality of this disaster is not based on any disaster we’ve ever before experienced. This is a whole new level of disaster, and it will change our country forever.

I’ve already told you what I’m doing. I’m preparing as much as I can, as fast as I can, and I recommend you do the same. Some of you are already prepared, and that’s good. But do more, and do it quickly. Use this time to prepare, because once the ash starts to fall, it will be too late to do anything.

It’s not my intent to frighten anyone, only to make you aware of what I know and feel, and that I believe it to be true. I’m not asking you to believe me. If you want the truth for yourself, then look for it, study the news, or pray about it. Whatever you do, don’t just sit around. Get busy now! If you need help or advice, please call me, but don’t bother calling me if you want to debate the finer points of my argument. I’m not interested in debating it with anyone. I’m only interested in protecting my family and keeping them alive, and that’s a responsibility I take very seriously.

I want you to know that I really hope I’m wrong, but I know that I’m not. And, as a courtesy to me, I ask that you not forward this email to anyone. If you decide to share this warning with others, then by all means, go right ahead. All I ask is that you personalize it, make it your message, not mine.

My love to you all. Take care, and God bless.

John and Family

John reread the letter, edited, and then reread it again before he was happy with the message and tone. He was about to hit the send button and remembered to let Jenna read it first. He found her in the bedroom and invited her to read the message and check his distribution list so he could send it out.

Jenna followed John to the dining room and quickly read the message. She sighed once and said, “It’s really good, but don’t you think it’s a little harsh?”

“Under the circumstances? No . . . not really,” said John.

Jenna checked the names in the distribution box, and John saw her add Sara’s name to the list. “I didn’t add her because I didn’t think she’d care,” said John.

“Well. It’s like you said,” remarked Jenna, “so let them decide how to act. It is our obligation to warn them, not necessarily to convince them.” She looked up at John and asked, “Is there anyone else you want to add?”

“No. I think that’s everyone’” replied John.

Jenna hit “send” and stood up. She gave John a kiss on the cheek, and then turned and walked back to the bedroom.

With the message sent, John wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he’d get, but he was glad, once again, that Jenna was his wife. He also felt satisfied that he properly fulfilled his obligation to his family and friends. It didn’t matter how they replied, or what they said, nothing would change John’s feelings or actions regarding the disaster. He was committed long before Jenna hit the send button.

When John entered the bedroom, Jenna asked, “Are you ready for bed? All this talk about the end of the world has me feeling very drained.”

“Really,” replied John, as he fell into her arms on the bed. “And here I though it made you really want me?”

“I always want you . . . in some form or another. Aren’t disasters good for making babies?”

“What?” John gasped.

“Kidding, John. Now go get ready for bed,” replied Jenna, as she pushed him off.

T
he alley stood before him once again, tall and imposing as ever before. It ran off into the dark gray distance beyond. The end, the opening of the alley, was lost in a featureless void of lightless detail. John turned and looked behind him, but when he saw more of the same he turned around and started walking. The alley was not entirely unfamiliar to him. He had spent time in the alley before, but that didn’t make it feel like home. Apprehension and anxiety filled his mind with every step.

John spotted a long staff on the ground at his feet and stopped. Unsure of what to make of it, he studied the staff for a moment before touching it with his toe. It was solid under his weight, and rolled lightly under his toe when he moved it. Now curious, he bent and picked up the staff and saw that it was made of wood. The staff’s dense grain was highly polished, and two simple brass caps covered each end.

He gripped the staff tightly, and noticed how good it felt in his hands; solid and reliable like a weapon, and useful as a tool. He dropped one end of the staff to the ground and the brass cap clicked sharply, like that of a tap-dancer’s shoe. Satisfied with his new find, John resumed walking, tapping the staff on the ground with every other step.

A growing darkness hastened his step. He looked up without pausing, unsure of what to make of the changing situation. Soon, a dense gray mist was formed at the top of the buildings, and it began to slowly descend upon him in the alley below.

People were now staring at him from open windows high above and on both sides of the alley. Some watched him curiously, but others
gestured with their hands, pointed at him, and yelled insults. They mocked John as he passed, laughed at him, and called him a fool and a liar.

John ignored them, but not the heavily descending mist. As it passed over the windows, the people’s voices began to change. They stopped taunting John, and began to moan and plead for his help. He could no longer see them, but he could still hear their voices through the mist, and they sounded shocked and surprised.

The oppressive weight of the mist threatened to overwhelm John. As it inched ever downward, he began to stoop over despite there being still enough room to stand freely. On a whim, he lifted the staff to probe the mist. When the brass cap on the end of the staff reached the mist, it stopped and solidified. John dragged the staff over the underside of the mist and saw that it resembled ash in every way, except it was upside down. To John, it was like he was falling head first with the staff, only he wasn’t. The ash was above him, held in place with reversed gravity.

The now tunnel-like quality of the alley was confining, but also more familiar to John. He actually preferred it to the taunting troubling voices that were now buried under the inverted ash. It also allowed him to focus on the faint light that was now visible at the end of the alley.

Relieved to see the light, John picked up his pace. But regardless of the distance he felt he traveled, he didn’t seem to be getting any closer to the light. Concern filled him and he began to run, but for every step closer the light seemed to retreat from him with equal distance. He paused to consider his dilemma, and realized that a little boy was standing next to him.

He turned to address the boy, to see his face, but he couldn’t. Regardless of which way John turned, he couldn’t see the boy well enough to identify him. Finally, the boy said, “Follow me, Papa.”

“Papa?”
thought John,
“Am I this child’s grandfather?”
John obediently followed the boy, walking to his left and slightly behind him. His pace was even and unhurried, but they reached the edge of the light without difficulty.

Before stepping into the light, the boy stopped at a large wrought iron gate that barred their way. John was familiar with the gate, having been trapped by it before. He was about to tell the boy the gate was locked, that their way was blocked. But the boy reached up, and with a single hand on the thick, heavy bars, he pushed the gate open.

John followed the boy into the light, and blinked his eyes at the now dazzling white brightness that surrounded him. When John’s eyes finally adjusted to the light, he saw that he was standing on a large, elevated stage. Before him, filling all the seats in the large auditorium, were thousands of people. Men, women, and children of all ages looked up at him in absolute silence.

Confused, John turned to the boy to ask where he was, and what he was supposed to do, or say, but he was gone. The sound of a subtle whoosh caught John’s attention and he looked up. A heavy, gray curtain was descending to the stage floor in front of him.

John realized he was about to be cut off from the audience, but he felt he had work to do, that he had something to say. He held the staff out in front of him to stop the curtain from falling, but the weight of the material bore his staff to the stage floor.

The audience, now separated from John by the curtain, began to cry out in shock and horror. Shouts and screams filled his ears. The sounds of many people standing up from their folding chairs was heard, followed by what sounded like a mad rush for the exits. It was an unmistakable sound of panic and urgency. John didn’t need to see it to know what was happening on the other side of the curtain. Chaos reigned on the other side of the curtain.

John heard, “There’s nothing you can do to help them, Papa,” and he turned to look for the boy.

John rolled over and sat up in bed. After several deep, cleansing breaths, and a still racing heart, he stood up and walked out of the bedroom after quietly opening the door. Jenna stirred with the activity, but she didn’t rise. And for that John was very grateful. He wasn’t ready to address yet another dream with Jenna, especially one like he just had.

He walked into the living room and sat on the sofa. With his elbows on his knees, John rested his forehead into the open palms of his hands and asked himself, “
What the heck’s going on?”
The dream, still very fresh in his mind, played over and over again. “W
hat does it mean? The boy called me Papa, was he my grandson?”
wondered John.

Several minutes passed and John stood up, still and quiet in the early morning darkness of the living room. Eventually, he made his way into the den. He knew he had to record the dream, knew that it meant something. For John, writing it down was the only way to keep his mind clear, and the accuracy of the memory complete. He also needed time to think about it.

An hour and a half later, John returned to bed, kissed Jenna softly on the cheek, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

The phone alarm sounded and John reached over to turn it off with a swipe of his finger. He was tired and wanted more sleep, but the sense of urgency he discovered yesterday returned with a new vengeance, and he quickly got up and walked to the bathroom.

For John, the best way to come fully awake was to go for a run, so he dressed in running clothes and headed for the door. He thought about waking Adam to join him, but decided against it. Running was John’s personal time, and he wanted to use it to mentally prepare for the day. He also wanted to think about the dream. Last night’s dream sat heavy on his mind, and though he knew it represented the coming disaster, he desperately wanted to understand the finer details, especially the part about the boy.

The mist turning to ash, and the falling curtain were obvious to him. But the staff, and the presence of the boy, confused him. They added a layer of complexity to the vision he didn’t know how to resolve. As for the people, those cut off by the ash, they were obviously victims - people caught off guard by the disaster. Was he to help them, or warn them in some way?