Left Alone

The Ark

 Finding

-

Home.

She pulled into the (empty) driveway and walked up to the (dark) house past the (full) mailbox to open the (unlocked) door.

She stepped into the empty house.

It looked the same as always. Magazines scattered on the couch, library books on the stand by the door, videogames spilled before the TV, a sweater draped over the arm of the rocking chair, like they had just gone a moment, like she'd come home before them and in a minute she'd hear them pull into the driveway, the engine turn off, the sound of the car door being shut firmly, the faint sound of steps, then the seal of the front door giving as it was pushed in. Mom or Dad would be standing there puffy in their winter jacket, cheeks red from cold.

The answering machine was blinking red. She pressed the button and sat on the chair next to it, and listened to her own voice, repeating the same things over and over as if all she had to do was be clear enough.

There is a difference between knowing and believing, and so she cried.

She woke around noon. For a moment her thoughts fumbled to remember where she was, then for another she felt safe - she was home - before she remembered that she was alone.

Her parents were gone, Noah was gone, Adrian was gone. And she was left alone.

She'd gone this far for them. She tried to think of what to do next, only to find a void. If they were gone what did it matter?

She got up anyway, pushing the blankets aside. If she didn't think, it was like they were still there, small things out of place like they had set them down and just gone to another room for a moment. She could almost believe it as long as she didn't look for them. She took a long shower, scrubbing her skin red. She dried off, putting on fresh clothing, and sat, thinking of nothing.

Finally, she became aware of hunger, and she got up and walked to the kitchen, avoiding looking at the answering machine. There was frozen food in the freezer, and she put it in the microwave and then stood and watched the seconds count down.

She ate, starting to think of what to do.

She was pulling into herself again, but it was harder this time, like she was collapsing into nothing. It had been easy to stop thinking of others when she was scared for her family. Thinking of them, she couldn't think of anything else, just the loss. But trying to cut herself off from the memory made her feel there was nothing else left to herself.

Adalia thought slowly, haltingly, that if this was the Rapture, she needed to find the right church, the one that taught the right God. The one taught to the people who'd vanished.

But the people who knew that would have vanished. God had taken them for knowing it.

Some might have not been good enough, Adalia thought. Ones who were told but hadn't believed properly, relatives perhaps. They could know what the disappeared had known, or maybe the church of the disappeared would have things left, pamphlets or written sermons she could read.

Maybe if she believed the right things, she'd be able to see them again.

Adalia didn't know what churches were nearby beyond the one her family had gone to. The right one would have lost its congregation, but she didn't know who had vanished in the area or which church they'd belonged to. Other people might, though. She hadn't been here, she didn't know who had disappeared, but other people would know.

She pulled her coat on against the cold and headed outside.

The first few doors she knocked on stayed closed, and at the next, the old woman who answered just shook her head and said she didn't know. Adalia kept going.

She was two streets further before she found anyone who could answer.

There were three families he knew on the street who had vanished completely, and all had gone to the same church. He'd been to the church once and hadn't liked it, but he could tell her where it was.

She thanked him and listened to his directions, trying not to look at the tire swing hanging from the tree in his yard. Her loss was enough. Then she walked back to the car where it was parked in the driveway, climbed in and drove.

The roads were clear of debris. There were fewer cars than she remembered, but there were cars. The only thing wrong were the dark houses, the empty yards, and that was an absence hovering at the edge of sight, something that didn't have to be acknowledged directly.

As she approached the church, she realized she recognized it. She'd gone by it before. It had an odd, distinctive cross perched on the roof, with a stand of six bent metal legs that she'd thought reminded her of a virus capsid when she'd seen it in the past. She didn't think that now. She thought of driving past with her mother sitting next to her, and pretended for a moment that it was still possible.

There were cars in the church parking lot. She slowed but hesitated, wondering if she was wrong about this being the right church. She only knew there were three families gone, it could just be a coincidence and the rest of the congregation remained. But then, they could be people like her, and she didn't have any better ideas right now. She turned the car in, parked it, and got out. She walked up the stone steps and through the double doors into the church.

Just inside, it was empty but lit, and she could hear a distant buzz of people's voices. A sign standing just beyond the door directed her to the basement. She walked down the center aisle, past row after row of vacant pews. It wasn't far but it felt like it, the quiet church making her uneasy. When she finally reached the end she paused a second before the pulpit, glancing up almost involuntarily at the life-sized cross hanging over it, each rib visible and skin sunken below like the victim of a famine.

She'd never liked seeing the cross.

She looked away, turned to her right and headed for the stairway, the buzz of voices growing louder as she went down. The stairs twisted around and then she was facing into the room.

There were kids. Kids, milling about with a handful of adults, kids maybe thirteen or even -

Even -

"Noah!"

The boy stopped and then after a second that felt like eternity, turned to face her, and it was him, Noah, her brother, he was still there She rushed over and hugged him. "Oh god I'm so sorry," came out in a rush. "I thought you were gone, I thought you were gone too."

He clutched back. "So did I," he whispered. "I thought it was just me."

"What - what happened?" she said finally, letting go reluctantly, still keeping hold on one of his hands.

"One of the other boys, in my class, Micky, when it happened he told us. He realized what happened before any of us, before the teachers. He, his whole family, they were gone, he called to be sure and then that was, it was certain. They were gone but he thought there'd be somebody left in the church because his mom had said so and we went there and there was, and he knew. He told us what we had done wrong, what we had..." He burst into tears and hugged her again, sobbing and hiccuping and trying to talk. "Mom and Dad are dead, they're dead and they're in Hell now and we're all going to die-"

"No, no that's not-" Adalia started to say.

"You have to convert, you have to say the words," he said desperately. "You have to say the words, you have to say them, what if something happens you have to, the pastor left a tape with directions, you have to accept Jesus before you get killed."

"Noah, calm down Noah."

He was almost smothering her and she tried to push him away, but he shook with terror and held tighter, his grip almost painful. "You have to, you have to, please, Mom and Dad are already not you too you have to say them Jesus will kill everybody who doesn't he said so-!"

"It's okay, it's okay, I will, shush, it's okay, I will," she told him, having no idea what she was promising.