Return ... Part 45 ...Bleak Future



I intend to get out of here. It can’t last forever.
Others have thought such things, in bad times before this,
and they were always right, they did get out one way or another,
and it didn’t last forever. Although for them
it may have lasted all the forever they had.

― Margaret Atwood




Bleak Future.jpg
Darkness at Noon



Autumn can sometimes be gloomy marked by fall rains and leaden skies, but this October is particularly oppressive made bleak by shortages and intrusive government surveillance.

I've been looking forward to Frank's return to help me find the hidden cave entrance but the foul weather has persisted making the search infeasible.

I hoped he'd make the trip anyway and visit but the heavy rain made the country roads impassable, so I resigned myself to another day of brooding and working on Tom Faraday's research on the cabal and its methods.



The girls also seemed affected by the dismal weather and quietly worked in their rooms rather than with me at the dining room table.

I hate the tedium and our continual isolation and think we're all struggling under the burden of some heavy oppression. It's tangible and suffocating and I can almost say demonic but can't bring myself to accept the world-wide emergency is actually part of an end times tribulation.



Call me stubborn but I'm a firm believer in Occams's Razor and prefer the simplest explanation rather than mystical assumptions about angels and demons or some end times Parousia.

Still, if Breton is right in his theology, I can't imagine a more dire set of events that would constitute what he described as a great fire that would shake the faith of many.

Since I'm faithless and don't have to worry about losing what I didn't possess to begin with.



The girls don't agree with me. I can understand Angelica embracing an ethereal view because of being clairvoyant, but Brooke? The girl surprises me.

Maybe I consider her more cynical and derisive because of the way she relates to me but I'm definitely amazed at her willingness to believe when she always seemed more down to earth to me.

But then again maybe the earthiness I attribute to her says more about my instincts. I know I struggle to resist her charms despite my attempts to keep her at arm's length.



"Zach, can we talk?"

She appears out of the shadowy hallway as a lovely wraith, dressed in jeans and a white cable-knit sweater and all my previous intentions are instantly shattered.

"Of course," I smile, "come sit by the fire."

I sit on the couch and she slides in beside me as naturally as if she belongs, and who's to say she doesn't?



But her need to talk is more than just social

"I've been reading Tom's notes," she says, "and they've disturbed me. I didn't know Tom well but knew he was a scoffer and skeptic when it came to religion―but in these last entries he's obviously convinced the Emergency is satanic."

"Yeah, I was seeing the same thing in the journal entries I read. It's amazing how a great crisis can lend itself to conspiracies."



She shivers and shakes her head in dissent. I can see she's upset.

"I'm scared, Zach. Tom wasn't the kind to believe in anything beyond his five senses, yet in the end he was absolutely convinced the cabal was being controlled by demons. He thought Satan himself would manifest in the flesh during Sukkoth, the Jewish Feast of Booths―and that's only a week away, in the middle of this month."

I stare at her in disbelief. It's plain to see she's distraught and trembling. I want to refute what she said but it's obviously disturbed her and caused her anguish.

Again, I find myself gathering her into my arms and comforting her instead.

What else was I supposed do―start a theological debate when she's terrified?



"What are we going to do?" she moans, "the festival lasts for seven days from the thirteenth to the twentieth."

I feel helpless and shake my head in dismay.

"I have no idea. I'll look over Tom's research and try to figure out how he arrived at this conclusion. It seems totally out of character for him, but right now that's all I can say."

"Hold me," she pleads, "I can't stop shaking."



I hold her close, stroking her long hair and kissing her as if that could somehow make her fear go away. I'm reminded of the ending of Dover Beach where Matthew Arnold clings to his Beloved and tells her the world he thought was a land of dreams has turned out to be confused and dark having no joy, certainty, or help for pain.

Yeah, that about sums it up. I muse inwardly.

Arnold had no candles to light his darkness as I have no magic to banish monsters.



To be continued…


© 2021, John J Geddes. All rights reserved


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