The Savior of the Font

Prologue

New York City - 3 months before the Rapture

"Come on, go faster," I anxiously mutter while repeatedly pressing the lobby button on the elevator panel. Of course, I know it's not doing anything, but I feel like I have to do something other than stand and wait for it to bring me down to the ground floor. The repeated clicking of the button drowns out the soft piano music playing from the speaker over my head. The walls are covered with mirrors, giving me a clear view of my tear-streaked face no matter where I look. Streams of mascara stripe down my cheeks. My eyes are red and puffy.

"Let's have dinner. I just want to have a nice dinner." I repeat the request she made that led us up here to this rooftop restaurant in the first place. One minute she's off on her own doing who knows what, and the next she's saying she wants to take us all out for a fancy dinner. We didn't know what to make of it then, but now we know it was to say goodbye. It was to thank us for helping her along the way. It was to tell us she was about to die.

I know I shouldn't be chasing her. I should just let her go. That's what she wants. That's what she told us to do. We said our goodbyes on the roof. After I walked away I just stood in the hallway on the top floor with my back to the wall. I've never felt so numb before. I was forcing myself not to go back, but then I heard her voice from down the hallway as she was getting into the elevator. By the time I rounded the corner, the doors were shut and she was gone again.

After that, I had to go after her. Now I'm descending back towards the lobby, hoping against hope that I don't have to stop along the way to pick anyone else up. She's going to die. She knows they've set a trap for her and she's just going to walk right into it. It's all to save us. Fuck, it's really to save the world. God's going to destroy the planet unless she dies; unless she gives herself over to my father's fanatic zealots. It's as surreal as it is unfair.

At long last, the elevator reaches the lobby and the doors slide apart. I dash between them before they're fully open. The gleaming wax coating on the floor squeaks under my sneakers as I run. Puzzled faces rush past my eyes. I'm sure a young woman running through a fancy lobby in New York City with mascara-tears soaking her cheeks isn't a common sight.

I run hard into the revolving glass door, spinning it faster than I'm sure it was designed for. Once outside, the muggy night air fills my lungs. It's noisy, but big cities always are, and this is the biggest city there is. Honks, shouts, sirens, and revving engines fill my ears. There's as much foot traffic on the sidewalk as vehicle traffic on the road and I worry I won't see her amongst the river of people going in each direction.

But then I find her.

"Faith!" I cry out.

She's half a block away with her back to me. At my calling, she stops and turns. A gentle breeze blows strands of her raven-black hair into her pale face. Her gaze holds a mix of relief and frustration like she's both happy and not happy that I've gone against her wishes.

"Molly," she says meekly. "I know you..."

"I can't let you go," I say as my tears return. A part of me is already regretting this. Looking into her beautiful eyes again only serves to remind me that yet another painful goodbye is coming, and I've brought it on myself.

She sighs. "You have to. There's no way around it."

I run down the sidewalk towards her, forcing myself to stop before I can throw myself into her. I want to just wrap my arms around her and never let go. "It should be me," I say with a shaky voice. "I should be the one to take the fall."

"Absolutely not," she retorts.

I reach out and grab her shoulders. My head hangs and I stare at the sidewalk. Every moment that's brought us here flashes through my mind, and each one only serves to prove me right. "But it's not fair! I'm the one who stood in your way! I'm the one who tried to kill you! It's my dad who's trying to now! It's all my fault and I should..."

I gasp when she wraps her arms around me and pulls me in close. My head rests on her shoulder and I'm enveloped in her sweet scent. Her chest heaves as I hear her start to cry. Her fingers gently run through my hair. Faith is filling my senses and I'm trying my hardest to savor every one of them.

"It was always destined to go this way," she whispers. "I think we both know that."

"I don't think I can live without you," I manage to squeak out. "I don't know how." I think back to the nightclub where I confessed my love to her. It was the most relieving moment of my life. And as we danced there under the strobing lights and thumping music, our bodies pressed together and our eyes locked on each other, I'd found the heaven they always told me only God could provide.

"Of course you do," she replies warmly. "That's what this whole thing has been about. Jesus, Roberts, look at what you've become! None of us have been made as strong by all this as you. You overcame more obstacles than anyone. And you're going to go on living and find you a great girl to spend the rest of your life with, and you're going to help others find the same strength you did."

The thought of being with another woman makes my stomach turn. How could anyone compare to Faith? She was the one who finally brought this naive little lesbian out of the closet after years of hiding. I couldn't deny my feelings for her any longer, which meant I couldn't deny who I was. I wipe another tear from my eye as I hang my head. "I don't want some other girl. I don't want anyone else. I want you. I... I love you."

She puts a crooked finger under my chin and lifts my head. In her eyes I see sorrow, but I swear I detect a hint of wanting. It must just be me seeing what I want to see. I'm desperate for her to want me as badly as I want her.

Then she leans in and kisses me.

My eyes fly open. For a moment I forget how to breathe. My heart beats so hard I can feel it in my ears. I've dreamed about kissing her for years, each time imagining how she would taste and how soft her lips would be against my own. My dreams didn't do it justice. I place my hands on her hips and pull her in closer. Her hands rest on my cheeks and I breathe deeply through my nose.

It's painful when our lips part, like my heart is being pulled from my chest. I feel dizzy, and the muggy air is making me light-headed. My eyes find her lovely face smiling at me and it helps me find balance again. "So... what does that mean?" I ask sheepishly. I know this is our parting moment. If I don't get an answer for her, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering.

"Whatever you need it to," she replies. "It's yours."