The End is Now Read online

  “Thank you, Mrs. Henderson,” Mike said, after Amy finished filling his cup.

  “You’re welcome,” Amy said. She sat on the couch next to her husband. The men didn’t say anything. They just kept sipping their tea. Apparently, they didn’t realize that this was the moment they should start filling her in on what happened. This shouldn’t have been a shock to Amy. Jeff was usually horrible at reading the moment. He didn’t understand the right moments of when to say “I love you,” or to ask her how her day was, or when to turn off the TV so they could catch up on their lives. Whenever Amy pointed this out, Jeff gave some Neanderthal response like, “How am I supposed to read your mind?”

  Amy always tried to explain that he wasn’t supposed to read her mind; he was just supposed to be a little bit empathetic. If he used a hint of intuition he could tell the right moments. And when you feel the moment it’s so much more rewarding. It’s so much better for your husband to say things like, “Honey, I’m so lucky to have you,” when it’s not prompted. When it comes out of the blue. But intuition and reading the situation would have to wait for another night.

  Tonight, she needed to know what was going on with her son. Even when she had tucked Will into bed, he still wouldn’t tell her anything more. And if he wasn’t going to tell her, they would have to. “What happened out there?” Amy asked. Then she looked at Mike and asked, “Why did you tell my son not to tell me anything? He said you were going to ‘fill me in on the situation.’ And so I’ve made your tea and now I’m waiting for you to fill me in.”

  “All right Mrs. Henderson. Your son was lost deep, three-quarters of a mile at least, in those cornfields,” Mike said. “He was running around trying to find his way out for hours. When one of my deputies found your son he was asleep. After we found him and woke him up, he started to say some unsettling things.”

  “Unsettling things.”

  “He started talking about the rapture, Amy,” Jeff said. “And I’ve never seen him look or sound the way he did when he was out there. I can’t even really explain it. It wasn’t even Will. It was like he was someone else.”

  “What was he saying?”

  “He was making some pretty bold claims,” Mike said.

  “He said there were going to be three signs,” Jeff added, “and once those three signs were complete the rapture would come. It was crazy. It didn’t really make sense.”

  “How did he know there would be three signs?”

  “Some face told him,” Jeff said. “He saw some face made out of corn or something and it told him all of this.”

  “So what were the signs?”

  Jeff and Mike looked at each other the way a couple who’d been married for years would. They were talking without words. The problem was, Jeff was Amy’s husband. He should be exchanging secret looks with her, not Mike. They were still covering something.

  “Don’t look at each other, look at me,” Amy said. “What were the signs?”

  “He only told us one of them,” Jeff said. “He told us the school would be destroyed.”

  “He what?”

  “In three days,” Jeff said. “He told us the school would be destroyed in three days and that is the first sign.”

  “What does that even mean?” Amy asked.

  “Honestly, Mrs. Henderson, nothing,” Mike said. “Your son was out there for hours. He was traumatized. He could have seen a lot of things but that doesn’t mean they were real. It just means he was scared. He probably dreamed it all. And that’s why I wanted to fill you in. We need to all work together to convince Will that he was dreaming. We probably need to keep him home from school tomorrow. Then this will all go away.”

  “What if he wasn’t dreaming?”

  “Honey, come on — ”

  “No, what if he wasn’t dreaming? What if he really saw something out there?”

  “And what if it was just a dream?” Mike asked. “In the age of school shootings and every other kind of fear we can’t have your son running around telling everyone the school’s going to be destroyed. That’s going to freak this entire town out. The bottom line is your son had a traumatic night. But he’s home and he’s safe. We should all be thankful for that. Let’s take the next day or two to help him calm down. If he’s still convinced he saw something after that we’ll go from there.”

  “It’s the right thing to do honey,” Jeff said. “He’s still only eleven and we’re his parents. It’s our job to help him know what’s real and what isn’t.”

  The conversation went on in circles for a while until they finally agreed that it was in everyone’s best interest to keep Will home from school tomorrow. If anything, he’d had a traumatic night and needed some rest. Once that was agreed on, Mike left the house. Amy felt like an oppressive weight left with him. Who was he to boss them around anyway? It wasn’t like Jeff ever talked to him anymore. So why did he suddenly care so much, Amy thought as she brushed her teeth.

  “I know this is scary,” Jeff said with a toothbrush crammed in his mouth, “but it’s late and things seem so much worse late at night. Let’s get some sleep. By tomorrow night we’ll all be laughing about this.”

  “Okay,” Amy said as she bit down on her own toothbrush. Laughing about this? Was he serious? Amy rinsed out her mouth with Cool Mint Listerine, thinking she should cut Jeff a little slack. He meant well. He’d been through a tough night himself and he had to get some sleep for work tomorrow. He was just trying to be a good husband. He was trying to make her feel better. But it wasn’t working. She felt worse after everything he said, but he was trying and that was worth something.

  After Jeff went to bed Amy couldn’t sleep.

  So she stood in Will’s doorway and watched him sleep. He was just as perfect as the day he was born. She still smiled as she watched his miraculous little lungs slightly move the covers up and down. He made the cutest little snoring sound as he slept. And as Amy stood in the doorway she felt like she could finally relax. She felt maybe Jeff was right; the sun would come up tomorrow and everything would be okay.

  About a half hour later she crawled into bed with Jeff. It reminded her of how she felt when she was first married. She was frightened about the concept of sharing her bed with someone. Every time she wanted to turn over or pull the sheets a little closer she was scared that she might wake Jeff up. It felt so strange then. It felt surreal that she would be sharing her bed for the rest of her life. It made her anxious as she realized this wasn’t just an arrangement that would be going on for a couple of weeks, this was forever. As long as she was still on earth, every time she twisted or turned or tugged on the covers, Jeff would notice.

  That feeling went away after a while though. And Amy grew to like sharing her bed. She thought it was nice to have a warm body to snuggle up with on the bitter cold nights of December. And it was nice on a night like tonight, when the world outside of her home seemed so frightening, to have Jeff there to protect her.

  As Amy got into bed she curled against her husband and closed her eyes. Amy had recently been studying about lucid dreaming. She learned that she could dream about whatever she wanted and that seemed like such a wonderful thing. So she’d read up on how it worked and had tried with some success lately to control what she dreamed about. Amy lay with her eyes closed and imagined all of the things she wanted to dream about — picnics in the park, their trip to Disney World, Emily growing up and becoming famous, Will marrying some amazing Christian girl and bringing over perfect little grandbabies on Thanksgiving. Amy was sure these would be the things she would dream about.

  She was wrong. Once she finally fell asleep the image that kept rolling over and over in her mind was Will stranded alone in that cornfield having visions of the future. And the question that kept popping into her dreams was — what really happened to my son out there?

  WILL HENDERSON

  Will skipped school the next day.

  It was only the second time in Will’s life that he’d been told not to go to school ev
en though he was feeling perfectly fine. The first time was in the second grade. The kids at school were busy making a haunted house. Will was on the zombie team and his job was to make a dish called “brains delight,” which consisted of red Jell-O and Raisinets. When his mom heard about what the class was doing she insisted Will stay home from school. At the time she was listening to Kent Howard, a nationally known, loved, and respected evangelist who was warning about the little ways evil things get into our homes. “Often, the evilest, I’m talking about the most demonic of things, can get put into our homes through our children’s toys.”

  And when she learned about the haunted house she knew this was exactly what Kent Howard was talking about. Will thought it was sort of neat he got to stay home without being sick, but he was kind of conflicted too. He didn’t want to let the other kids on the zombie team down. When he told his mother this, she said, “The kids on the zombie team should be let down.”

  Will didn’t exactly know what she meant.

  But then his mom asked if he wanted to go to the store and get all new toys and some new movies. Will could hardly believe it. Skip school and get new toys — it was too good to be true. The problem was his new toys were Bible action figures like the apostle Paul and Meshack and his new movies were McGee and Me and Superbook.

  When Will got home he started to watch his new movies. They were sort of okay. Superbook was a cartoon about a bunch of Japanese-looking children who had a robot and a time-traveling flying house. They traveled back to Jesus’ time to watch him do miracles. Will tried to get into the cartoon but the whole time he kept thinking, If you had a time-traveling flying house, why would you go back to Jesus’ time? Why not go see cowboys and gunfights in the wild west or to medieval days when there were knights and dragons and castles and moats? Will decided that the kids in Superbook were just more spiritual than he was and then he felt guilty that he was more interested in cowboys and dragons than in Jesus.

  As Superbook came to an end Will heard a rustling sound in his room. He ran upstairs and saw his mom with a trash bag throwing away his Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and Harry Potter books. “Why are you throwing everything away?” Will asked.

  “Oh, these old things? You don’t need them anymore. You have new toys and books now,” his mother explained.

  “Oh,” Will said. And then, “But I sort of like my old ones too.”

  “These aren’t good for you. I know you don’t understand this now, but someday you’re going to. And you’ll thank me,” she said.

  Will didn’t get any new toys on the morning after the cornfield. But his dad did tell him that he could watch any movie he wanted. His dad said he deserved a day off after his rough night last night. He told Will that he had seen some special things but he needed to keep them a secret from everybody until they could talk about it more.

  So Will tried to enjoy his day off. He poured himself a bowl of Lucky Charms and then spent twenty minutes picking out all of the non-charm pieces so he could enjoy a bowl of nothing but colorful marshmallows. Then he popped in The Return of the King, his favorite in the Lord of the Rings trilogy. He should have been having fun. He should have been getting lost in middle earth and not worrying about anything that was going on in Goodland. But he couldn’t because there was a big problem — the face had given him a warning. And this wasn’t something he was supposed to keep a secret; this wasn’t something that was supposed to just be between him and the other guys in the cornfield. Everybody was supposed to know the things the face was saying. Because what good is a warning if you don’t warn anyone?

  Had his parents not thought about this?

  Was Officer Mike saying things — saying lies — that were tricking his mom and dad? Suddenly, Will got a little scared. A police officer who was a bad guy, that was a lot to take in. Still, it was possible. It had to be. Will sat in the back of the police car last night and listened to Officer Mike tell his dad, “Your son shouldn’t go to school for the next few days because he’s going to scare people.” And Officer Mike was right. Will was going to scare people.

  He was supposed to scare people.

  Sure, it was scary that the school was going to be destroyed. But wouldn’t it be scarier if the other elementary kids were in the school while it was being destroyed? Of course it would. So the only explanation was that the police officer and his parents didn’t believe him.

  Did they think he was just making this stuff up for fun? Or did they think he was dreaming? Did they think he was having a nightmare? Maybe they thought he was having a dream or a nightmare and when he woke up he started talking about the face and reasons the rapture was going to happen. But they couldn’t be more wrong. Whatever last night was, it wasn’t a nightmare. Nightmares jump all around. You could be in a field, then in a house, then falling from the sky, and then in your underwear in the middle of the school bus with all the other kids laughing at you. Nightmares are jumbled with lots of scary pictures strung together.

  The face wasn’t like that.

  It was calm, and it talked for a long time, and Will could remember everything. He could remember how the wind sounded, how cool it was, the questions he asked and the answers the face gave. Still, it was starting to make sense, his parents and the officer wanted him to believe that it was a dream. It was safer that way. After all, they hadn’t seen the face themselves. And kids imagine up weird stuff like fairies and pirates and monsters in the closet all the time. Sure, Will wasn’t a kid anymore, but he wasn’t an adult either. So, how were they supposed to know Will had actually seen the face? They couldn’t. The only way they could believe would be by the school being destroyed.

  And by then it wouldn’t matter anymore.

  It was suddenly clear what had to be done. Will ran upstairs, put on his favorite sweatshirt, his second favorite pair of jeans, and his bright red Chuck Taylor sneakers. Then he ran back downstairs, threw a blanket over himself, and waited. He would look exactly like he did on any other sick day. He wouldn’t act until the moment was right. He continued to watch Return of the King. Right around Will’s favorite part (the moment where Sam Wise Gamgee says, “I may not be able to carry the ring Mr. Frodo, but I can carry you”) his mom sauntered down the stairs.

  “How are you honey?” This question felt more annoying than it should have. Lately, Will didn’t want to be mothered. He loved his mom, sure, but she could also be so suffocating. It was like she was trying to hold him back. She didn’t want him to grow up. She wanted him to be her “precious guy” or “little lamb” forever.

  “I’m fine Mom.”

  “Do you want to come to the store with me?”

  “I’m going to watch the rest of the movie.”

  “Isn’t it almost over?”

  “No, there’s a lot left.” That’s what was so great about Return of the King. Even when it felt like it should be over there was still like an hour left.

  “Okay, is there anything you want me to get at the store?”

  “No, I think I’m okay.”

  “But you always want me to get you something.”

  “Right, of course,” he said. She was right. He always wanted something at the store. And now suddenly he didn’t. He was acting suspicious. He needed to ask for something — but what? How was he supposed to be able to think about treats when the end of the world was so near? It was tough to think about what to ask for when every friend you have is going to be killed in a few days. So he just blurted, “I’d like some ice cream.”

  “What flavor?”

  “Vanilla.”

  “Vanilla? That’s it?” she said.

  Vanilla? What are you thinking? Why didn’t you say Cookie Dough or Rocky Road or any of the special flavors of ice cream? Why did you have to pick vanilla, the most suspicious of all ice cream flavors? He needed to tell her some things he’d like with the ice cream. Because the only reason a person would ever order vanilla ice cream is so they could put all sorts of stuff on top of it. So he
said, “I’d like vanilla, and chocolate sauce, caramel, and marshmallows for toppings.”

  “Isn’t that a little much?”

  “You asked me what I wanted.”

  “Okay, because you’ve been so brave,” his mom said right before she kissed him on the forehead, grabbed her keys, and left.

  She bought it, Will thought.

  He sprung up from under the covers, peered through the window, and watched as the Volvo pulled out of the driveway and down the road. He darted outside. He grabbed his bike and pedaled down the road as fast as he could. It wasn’t fast enough. He had to get to school and back before his mother got home. Unfortunately, his family lived out in the country. And in Goodland that’s saying something. Still, he had to somehow get onto the school grounds without any of the teachers or principals seeing him and beat his mom home. If he could do that successfully, then no one could prove he was ever there. Sure, someone else would get the credit for saving the school, but he couldn’t worry about being a hero at the moment.

  The message was all that mattered.

  The plan started off well. Will made it to school in record time. He pulled up to the school right as everyone was getting out for lunch. Luckily he wouldn’t have to sneak into the school because in the fall most kids eat their lunches outside. They eat on the benches or sitting in the grass (it was more like weeds, dandelions, dirt, and grass splotches, but none of the kids paid much attention to the landscaping), and they ate quickly so they could get on to the important business of playing dodgeball and steal the bacon.

  Will hid his bike in the shrubs and snuck up to the chain-link fence. He’d have to find the nearest kids and talk to them. In the corner he saw Phil, Jessica, and Veronica. It was perfect. They were in the fifth grade and they were popular. Everyone looked up to them. If he could just convince them, they would have the clout to spread the word.