The unveiling, p.11
The Unveiling, page 11
part #3 of Chaos Series
Nevertheless, she still couldn’t bring herself to discuss this grim topic with her own flesh and blood. Contemplating suicide wasn’t something one openly discussed in front of spouses and children.
If this tragedy proved anything to Sarah Mulrooney, it’s that she was just as weak as she’d always thought she was, only weaker. Having lived an extremely sheltered life, always hidden behind her family, there’s no way she could have ever survived what Brian experienced at the football game with Justin.
The fact that she never had a full-time job in her life now loomed large. Being a stay-at-home mom allowed her to provide a safe, healthy security blanket for her two children; which, of course, was a good thing.
The problem was that Sarah was now suffocating beneath the very blanket she provided for Brian and Chelsea. It dawned on her that being so sheltered, and entirely too comfortable, most of her adult life was more of a curse than a blessing because it served to weaken her spirit, her courage.
Sarah couldn’t think of a single incident when she was forced to overcome obstacles all by herself with no one else’s assistance. Someone, namely, Dick, was always there to lead the way, thus keeping her safely protected in the background.
Some doors simply needed to be walked through alone, Sarah now understood this completely.
Looking back, if there was one thing she could change, she would have placed herself in more situations where she felt a greater sense of purpose. She was so busy living everyone else’s life that she forgot to live her own.
Because of this, Sarah Mulrooney lacked a backbone. Though her heart wasn’t in it, she decided that she would once again mask her own feelings of despair, regardless of how painful and unhealthy it was, and once again do her best to provide normalcy at the Mulrooney household.
After all, Brian did come all the way from Michigan. Cooking a nice dinner was the least she could do for him. The turkey was already in the oven.
There I go living for everyone else again, Sarah thought, almost ashamed. But Brian needed her now. Ever since he arrived, he’d downplayed the dreadful experience at the football game.
Though her son seemed to have a certain peace inside, Sarah knew he was still agonizing over the loss of Justin.
What could be more traumatic than having someone disappear from the face of the Earth before your very eyes? Surely, it would haunt him the rest of his life.
Last night, Brian halfheartedly shared with his family that he was planning to propose to Renate this upcoming Christmas. He followed it up by saying last weekend’s tragedy had forced him to put all plans on hold for the time being.
With so much uncertainty surrounding them, Sarah agreed that Brian should wait a while longer. After years of constant pleading with her son to pop the question to Renate, if there was one thing Sarah Mulrooney was thankful for this Thanksgiving, it’s that he never listened to her.
Had Brian and Renate made her a grandmother—something she always wanted in the worst way—they, too, would have been vaporized last weekend with all other young children.
Had that happened, it would have been enough to drive Sarah to an early grave, no questions asked...
21
THE FRONT DOOR OPENED. No one could overlook the peaceful expression on Dick Mulrooney’s face as he walked inside he house. No longer in mourning, his radiant smile confirmed it.
“Turkey smells great, dear,” Dick said, kissing Sarah on the cheek.
Sarah gave her husband a sideways look, “What’s gotten into you?” It was nice seeing such optimism for a change. It momentarily shook Sarah from her fog.
“I feel so blessed by today’s message,” Dick declared, with the energy of someone who’d just won the lottery. In his mind, he did win the lottery. They all did, in fact. “Father Benitez began by informing a packed church that he’d just received the official transcript coming out of Rome.”
Brian’s ears perked up like a puppy dog’s, “What did it say?”
“He was prohibited from sharing it with us until after the Pope’s address in...” Dick looked at his watch, “less than a half hour. He did, however, say that after many days of prayer and fasting God finally spoke to our beloved Pope.”
“Really? What did God say to him?” Brian’s senses were suddenly on full alert.
“Father Benitez wouldn’t say. But he assured us the Pope will put our minds at ease before saying his first mass at the Vatican since the disappearances.” Dick kissed his wife on the cheek again. “Father Benitez assured us that his message would be full of hope for the Catholic Church. I feel so encouraged.”
Brian frowned. A million thoughts assaulted his already confused mind. Up to this point, everything coming out of Rome had been purely speculative. The world had already concluded that what happened last Saturday was Christian in nature.
Everyone but the Pope, that is. Which was why most were extremely eager to hear the Bishop of Rome finally weigh in on the matter. Even in Brussels he refrained from voicing his opinion. Many wondered what had taken so long.
Finally, they would know.
At 3 p.m. the Mulrooneys gathered in the living room with bated breath to hear what the leader of the Catholic Church had to say. Saint Peter’s Square had been completely full of people since last Saturday. Many Catholics who’d made pilgrimages there prior to the Rapture could have gone home but refused to leave.
Tents and sleeping bags took up nearly every inch of the square. With no access to showers or razors, and with blankets wrapped around their heads and bodies for warmth, many looked like they’d materialized straight out of the pages of the Old Testament.
Since strength truly did come in numbers, they felt comforted being together at what they believed to be the holiest site on Earth. They sang songs and constantly recited the “Our Father” and “Hail Mary” prayers in many different languages.
“Save us, Holy Father,” they cried out to the Pope all week. “Have mercy on us!”
When the Pope finally appeared in front of their eyes, they erupted into loud cheering. Tears fell freely in the presence of the one they knew had protected them from harm last weekend.
After blessing the crowd standing before him and offering his deepest condolences, the Pope came straight to the point. Speaking in his customary soft, monotone voice he said, “While it’s true what happened last weekend was spiritual in nature, it was not Christian in nature. Despite what many are saying, nothing could be further from the truth. And this means those who were evaporated from the planet last weekend, who proclaimed to be Christians, were nothing more than heretics of the faith.
“Not including our precious children, whom I can assure you are in Heaven,” the Pope declared, “if Jesus came back to take His Church to Heaven, why are more than one billion Catholics, including all of you, still here?” he said, pointing to the crowd.
“No, my dear children, the Rapture theory that many keep talking about is found nowhere in the Holy Bible and, therefore, is entirely unfounded. The only rapture we can be sure of as Roman Catholics is the final resurrection of our bodies when Jesus Christ returns for real.”
“Regarding those who were presumed Catholics who vanished with the others,” the Pope said, “I have it on the highest authority that the good Lord took it upon Himself last week to rid the Church of any and all undesirables. In every large body, there are always a few bad cells. Just like cancer, they needed to be removed so the body could remain strong and vibrant.”
With a thankful heart and eyes emanating total belief, the Pontiff declared, “If you can hear my voice now, you can rejoice knowing that you are in a much better place than where they are. Now, regarding our precious children,” the Pope said, causing the large crowd to grow eerily silent, “with child abuse, pornography, drug and alcohol addiction, adultery and teenage pregnancies so rampant in our society, single-parent homes had long since become the norm.
“Far too many parents had polluted their bodies, minds and souls to the point of no return. No longer able to tolerate it, God removed all young children from the planet before their young minds became irreversibly polluted as well.
“While it’s too soon to speculate as to whether or not God will allow children to populate the Earth again, until that time comes along, if it comes, we need to thoroughly examine ourselves and get back to the basics,” the Bishop of Rome declared, without really meaning it.
“For whatever reason, Planet Earth, and especially the Catholic Church, is being given a second chance to redeem itself. We mustn’t waste this incredible blessing we have just been given. If we mess up this time, we will not get a third chance. Total annihilation lay on the horizon.”
The way he said it was sobering. Yet, at the same time, it comforted and provided assurance to grieving Catholics everywhere.
The Pope went on, “Though we continue to mourn for our lost loved ones and children, nothing should overshadow this second chance we are being given from God Almighty Himself. Even among so much tragedy and despair, the Catholic Church remains the one true Church! With that reassurance, I am most humbled to be the one chosen to help steer the spiritual ship back on track during this most historic time!”
The crowd at Vatican City erupted. Tears fell freely as pilgrims joyfully embraced one another. The Pope just gave Catholics a reason to be hopeful and grateful for the second chance they were being given.
Brian saw his father wiping tears from his eyes, totally moved by what he’d just heard.
“Thank you, Holy Father, for this incredible miracle,” Dick whispered softly, blessing himself with the sign of the cross.
Sarah Mulrooney reached for her husband’s hand and smiled as the Pope said mass to the scores of pilgrims in Saint Peter’s Square.
Chelsea Mulrooney was too occupied chatting online on her mobile device to know or care what was going on. It was all psycho-babble to her.
Brian, on the other hand, was completely dumbfounded. Are the Pope’s findings really true? Is the Catholic Church the one true Church? Had Justin merely been duped into believing a lie? Was he really an evildoer in disguise who was now suffering God’s fierce wrath in hell, as the Pope had just suggested? Sort of, anyway. If I keep reading the Bible, will I also be deceived?
Brian kept these unnerving thoughts to himself.
Dick Mulrooney was tired of sulking and feeling sorry for himself. Convinced beyond all doubt that being Catholic is what had spared his family, why be upset?
“It’s time to accept what happened and be grateful for the second chance we’ve been given,” the man of the house declared. “Naturally we’ll keep praying for the souls of the many departed and deceased. We’ll even have a moment of silence before eating dinner tonight. Other than that, let’s all move on and do our best to resume our lives just like the Pope had instructed.”
But what if the Bible is right and the Pope is wrong? Brian thought. If so, millions of Catholics would be affected for all time.
Brian Mulrooney was never more conflicted about anything more in life than he was right now.
WHAT WASN’T MENTIONED IN the official transcript, or by the Pope, was the main reason for the lengthy delay.
A growing number of bishops, archbishops and cardinals were in stark disagreement with the Pope’s controversial conclusion that it wasn’t Christian in nature.
This silent but growing group of dissenters referenced the Bible time and again trying to convince the Pontiff that the Rapture theory couldn’t be ignored, that further investigation was needed before it could be dismissed so easily.
“If last Saturday’s mayhem was indeed the Rapture of Christ’s Church,” said a cardinal from the Philippines, “the fact that we weren’t included means we’ve been preaching a false message all these years.”
Mindful that a large number of evangelical Catholics were gone—many were his friends—the Filipino cardinal knew they believed in a soon-to-come Rapture. He was starting to think the Pope was being supernaturally blinded to the Truth. How could he, as leader of the Catholic Church, totally discard the Rapture theory so easily?
The answer was simple: if true, Catholics everywhere would be outraged and would demand an explanation. “Why weren’t we taught about the Rapture all these years?” they would protest. “Why weren’t we warned about it? If the true Christians were Raptured, why are we still here on Earth?”
Like all other dissenters, the cardinal’s words fell upon deaf ears in many circles, especially at Vatican City. But with their spiritual eyes and ears opened for the very first time, many were repenting of their sins, placing their complete trust in Jesus, and only Jesus, and quickly disassociating themselves from the Catholic Church.
All were warned in private to leave quietly or else...
If word ever got out, great harm would be done to the Church. Multitudes would leave, including some of the Pope’s top advisers. The Papacy would come under great scrutiny, perhaps even be discredited altogether, because it would greatly challenge the Pope’s infallibility.
No, there wasn’t a chance the Bishop of Rome could support the Rapture theory on any level. If he did, irrecoverable damage would be done to the Church he was empowered to lead.
He had fought too hard to obtain this lofty position.
He wasn’t about to let it all crumble to the ground now. No way!
22
THANKSGIVING DINNER AT THE White House was a rather somber one. Seated at the table were President Danforth, First Lady Melissa Danforth, their son, William and his wife, Christine, their daughter, Janelle and her husband, Dr. Benjamin Richardson, and Melissa’s mother, Candice Stephenson.
Gone were Jefferson’s mother, Lydia Danforth, their youngest daughter, Erica, her husband Ronald Whittingham, and their four grandchildren—Jared, Shane, Tiffany and Rebecca. Looking around the table, the empty spaces loomed large, like a birthday party gone terribly wrong.
From an aesthetic viewpoint, the scene looked festive enough. The table was covered with a beautiful, hand-made ivory tablecloth, a gift the First Lady received from the Prime Minister of England on her last visit to that country.
Fifteen, 24-inch, gold-colored candles burned brightly in three separate candle holders—five per holder—with the middle candle elevated three inches above the rest. An eighteenth-century crystal chandelier, which had lit the dining room table for many past Presidents, hung directly above the table and was aglow.
Everyone was dressed appropriately for the occasion. But that’s where any and all similarities from past Thanksgivings came to an abrupt end. As scrumptious as the food looked and smelled, everyone picked at their turkey and trimmings in silence, sullen-faced, while keeping their dreadful thoughts to themselves.
The only consistent sound came from a Gershwin classical CD playing in the background.
For Melissa Danforth, the scene was anything but joyous. Instead of dining together at Camp David, as was originally planned, they were celebrating back at the White House with only a fraction of the family present.
Celebrating, what a joke! It looked more like another funeral luncheon to Melissa than a Thanksgiving dinner, which, in a sense, it was.
Halfway through the meal, the First Lady excused herself from the table, claiming she wasn’t hungry, despite how much pressure her son-in-law doctor kept applying for her to nourish her body. She’d already lost ten pounds since last Saturday.
Melissa didn’t feel like eating. Nor did she feel like living. What was the point in living on this cruel and unfair planet among so much tragedy and despair? The First Lady became frighteningly even. Her whole manner became flat, monotone—passionless.
Now wasn’t the time for throwing another tantrum or crying hysterically in front of everyone else. She took her time ascending the stairs leading to her personal bathroom, glass of wine in hand.
Twisting the lids off three prescription containers her son-in-law had prescribed for her, First Lady Melissa Danforth deposited the remaining pills from each bottle into her mouth and swallowed them with three gulps of wine.
Within ten minutes the First Lady lay on the floor, motionless.
A half-hour later, President Jefferson Danforth went upstairs to check on his beloved. Screams echoed all throughout the White House corridors.
Dr. Benjamin Richardson ordered everyone to remain seated, then raced up the stairs taking them two at a time.
A Secret Servicemen, startled by the commotion, tried stopping him. “I’m her physician! Get out of my way!”
The male agent sheepishly backed down, something normally unheard of from a Secret Service agent.
Dr. Richardson found his mother-in-law lying on the floor completely comatose. It didn’t take long to diagnose the problem. The First Lady had overdosed on Xanax, Percocet and blood pressure pills. He yelled down the hallway to no one in particular, demanding that a chopper be made ready for immediate flight.
His mother-in-law still had a pulse, but just barely. They needed to act quickly if they had any chance at saving her life.
It didn’t take long for a chopper to arrive. President Danforth sat by his wife on the short flight to Annapolis Naval Hospital, holding her hand. When they arrived, Dr. Richardson wasted no time pumping the First Lady’s stomach of the destructive contents. He wasn’t sure if she would make it. Only time would tell.
