Half Dead World: Book One from the Apocalypse Tales Adrienne Hargrove (interesting books to read .txt) 📖

“I have been around for a very long time. One of the benefits is you get good at reading people. Are you trying to tell me I’m wrong?”

I contemplate lying, but I have the feeling he would know my deceit in an instant.

“I will know if you lie.”

I give a huff of disgust.

“I could see you contemplating it.”

“UGH! Get out of my head!”

He chuckles and raises one shoulder and lets it drop.

“Sorry, but is it that bad?”

“No, you’re just irritating me. I was naming you Ares.”

He chuckles lightly. “The God of War…. Well, I was a warrior long ago but there was nothing Godly about me.”

“You do not consider yourself a warrior anymore?”

“There will likely come a time when we will all be made warriors, but currently I would claim the title, rescuer.”

We stand for a moment in comfortable silence, and I look around at all the people. There are hundreds of them roaming around the garden. I can see some inside the house through the windows that are lit up in the night.

“Should they be inside the house, isn’t that an invasion of the Armstrong’s privacy?”

“We survive by their light. We must watch them in the privacy of their home, so that we can be certain they remain uncorrupted.”

“But what about… you know, intimate moments?”

He gives me a mocking look that makes me wish I hadn’t asked.

“Aah, well, during “intimate moments” the light that surrounds them is so intensely bright you cannot see anything.”

“Just what is the light and where does it come from?”

“The light comes from the creator. He gives it to all who acknowledge His son as their savior, and thereby enter into the family as brothers and sisters of the son, and children of the Father.”

“So, the light is like getting holy DNA?”

He smiles at the analogy. “It is exactly like that.”

“Why don’t you have the light, why do we have to rely on their light?” I ask as I point toward the Armstrong house.

“The light is given to the living who except Christ. Those who don’t before their first death become the watchers or the lost. We are the watchers: we watch the keepers of the light and bask in the safety their light provides. The lost are in the darkness. They were either not marked for rescue, or were separated from the light in the afterlife, and must endure the darkness.”

“What is the darkness? Is it like demons and hell?”

He raises his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “None of us know for sure, because no one has ever come back from the darkness.”

“Do you have a hypothesis?”

“Yes, but keep in mind it is just that, a hypothesis. I believe the souls in the darkness are experiencing all the hurt and pain their actions caused during their lifetimes, and the aftereffects of that hurt to future generations.”

“So, a murderer would feel what they did to their victim.”

“My guess is that they don’t experience the physical pain because they are like us and not physical beings. I believe they feel all the fear and anxiety and heartbreak that they have caused.”

“Well, it seems like they are getting off easy.”

“Do you think? I don’t know, think of the pain caused to the original victim, then think of the pain caused to the victim's family and friends and how that pain ripples like a wave from the original source, one pain causing another and another. The pain from an atrocity like murder can cascade through the spirits of humans for centuries. A lost soul who committed such an act would never be free from torment.”

“Are all murderers lost in the darkness?”

“No, there are many watchers who have taken lives or committed other cruel acts against mankind.”

“Why are some marked to be watchers and others left to be lost?”

“I do not know. It has never been our responsibility to judge, thank goodness.”

I am so overwhelmed with questions; I do not know where to begin. That’s when I notice the sky has cleared and the sun is beginning to rise. “I don’t understand how the whole night has passed while we were standing here talking?” I mentally tabulate and decide it couldn’t have been more than a few hours since the car accident.

“Time is not the same here. There is a different ebb and flow than in the natural world.”

I growl in frustration. “Every sentence you speak just gives me more questions.”

“Take heart Haven, you will likely have a very long time to get your answers.”

I don’t know why that surprises me. I guess I just hadn’t thought about how long I would be stuck here not quite dead. The thought of not seeing my parents again hits me hard and I feel the strangeness of sadness when it doesn’t have a physical outlet. I want to cry but there are no tears.

Lucius looks at me and I can see the concern and empathy in his expression. “Haven, I tell you the truth this will all end and one day we will be free.”

“What about my parents, where did they go?”

“I cannot say for certain what happens to the keepers of the light. There are two popular hypotheses. One is that they are waiting in heaven with the Father until the day of the Lord. The other is that they are at rest until the new earth is prepared and all is fully complete.”

“Which do you believe?”

“I lean toward them being at rest, but I am not certain.”

He looks around and seems to focus on the rising sun then he looks back to me. “Haven I think it’s important that you recognize that we are not meant to have all the answers. I have been watching believers