Judgment Read online

  Judgment

  Tom Reinhart

  Foreword

  My deepest respect goes out to all my friends and their widely various religious beliefs. This is not a book that attempts to speak against religion. It’s a tale of survival, set against a biblical backdrop. Almost all religious texts from various different religions foretell the end times in one form or another. This is one story of how society might react if that truly came to pass. And in the end, it's a story of faith, of redemption, and about searching within ourselves to see what is truly good or evil. It is my hope that all of us, from whatever religion we choose to follow, or not follow, can find peace from that choice.

  ~ Tom Reinhart

  Prologue

  I was never a religious man.

  I am now though, ever since the Judges came.

  Well, I suppose I'm not religious in the usual sense. I'm still not into organized religion. I still don't want to go to church. Those that go now are simply doing it out of fear. It's not that I ever had a problem with God; there were just too many things I couldn't understand, things I couldn't agree with. If you worship a god purely because not doing so brings punishment, that's not free will, that's dictatorship. Is that what we were created for, to be servants to a master? I used to joke that I was God's favorite, because I had the courage to question him. Today I sure hope that's true.

  So, no, I guess I'm still not a religious man. But I do believe that a greater power exists. I have no choice now that we have the proof. We watched the angels descend upon us, God's Judges, sent to pass judgment on all of mankind.

  The scientific community claimed they must be aliens, for there could be no other explanation. The religious people claimed it was the foreshadowing of the return of Christ, the end of days. They welcomed God's soldiers with open arms. They were the first to die when the judging began.

  One by one, human by human, each person's life weighed for sin against virtue, faith versus denial. Some submitted willingly to the judging. When the rest saw their bodies turned to ash and their wispy souls extracted, even the most devout fled in panic. Now both the believers and the non-believers have become the same; fleeing, hiding, screaming in terror when they are cornered by the angels of death.

  Perhaps the old stories in the bible weren't accurate. There were no great floods, no plagues of locusts or disease; no fire from the sky, no rivers turning to blood. This time the cleansing of mankind from the Earth is much more personal, much more one on one. Once a Judge lays a hand upon you, its golden eyes see deep into your soul, into your entire life, and judgment is passed. A moment later your body is dust, and it’s over.

  Over seven billion people were on the earth when the Judges came. I don't know how many are left. I only know the world is in chaos, and there aren't many of us left around here. A day to us must be different than a day is to God, because Judgment Day has lasted months so far. My small group is still intact; still hiding, still surviving. It gets harder every day though. Eventually the Judges will find us, if we don't kill each other first.

  I don't ask God to have mercy on our souls anymore; because it appears there's none to be had.

  For those who believe,

  For those who don’t,

  For those who should,

  For those who won’t.

  Find faith in something,

  Even if it’s only in yourself.

  Chapter 1

  In The Beginning

  "So it will be at the end of the age; the angels will come forth and take out the wicked from among the righteous.”

  ~ Matthew 13:49

  “Adam, that guy from the downtown office is here to see you again.”

  Daydreaming out the 52nd story window, the interruption sent my gaze to the doorway of my office. Jennifer was standing there, and she looked amazing. Funny how that was my first subconscious thought. It wasn’t what my new secretary had just said, or who she said was there to see me. My first thought was how hot she looked today. The tight low cut blouse, the short skirt and high heels. As a man that was the first thing that came to mind.

  Was that how it was supposed to be, or was there something wrong with me?

  Regaining my composure, I managed to look her in the face, bypassing her cleavage in a selfless act of chivalry. “Who?”

  “Brooksher, I think? Jim Brooksher. That guy that was here last week and you dodged him; the accountant. He’s back.”

  I had to think for a minute, and then I remembered and laughed; “Oh yeah.” I thought about dodging him again, but realized there wasn’t much point in putting off the inevitable; “Alright, send him in.”

  As if she was a ventriloquist, her cleavage seemed to say “Ok,” and then I watched her ass as she left; chivalry be damned.

  Yeah, there’s something wrong with me.

  I fumbled around with the mess on my desk looking for a particular report, and my mind tried to wander back to my daydreams. Work seemed to be the easiest time to think about anything else. Jim Brooksher entered my office, knocking on the door as he passed through it even though it was open. “Adam, I finally caught you.”

  “Yep, you sure did. It’s a slow day today.”

  “Those are the best kind, right?” Brooksher declared as he sat in a chair in front of my desk. I remained standing, still digging through the piles of crap for the report I knew he’d want to talk about. I gave up looking. “I don’t know. I think I’d prefer to be busy.”

  “Tell you what Adam; I’d sure like to get busy with that secretary of yours. What a piece of ass.” Brooksher was looking at me with that weird devilish grin; the same one I’d seen on men’s faces my entire life. I thought about his statement for a few seconds, trying to figure out if it was rude and unprofessional, or just normal. After all, I couldn’t deny those were my thoughts as well. I just smiled but gave no response. Brooksher read me wrong.

  “Wait. You hit that already didn’t you?!”

  Animals, we’re all just animals.

  I just shook my head, realizing men will never change. “No, but you’ll be the first one to know if I do. So are we going over last month’s numbers this morning?”

  “Um, first, pictures or it didn’t happen; and second, yes we have to. Corporate is all over my ass to reconcile the expenditures. I’d like to keep my job, you know.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just give me a minute alright?” I could no longer put off surrendering to the urgings of my bladder. “Too much coffee this morning, I’ll be right back.”

  “Hurry up. I’d like to get back downtown before lunch.”

  I pointed to his waist as I left the room. “Looks to me like you’ve had plenty of lunches already Jim.” I could hear the faint ‘screw you’ as I walked down the hallway to the bathrooms.

  The hallway led directly passed the break room, and glancing in I could tell something beyond routine was occurring. A larger group than usual had gathered inside, including Jennifer, all fixated on the television on the wall. There was some pointing, some exaggerated gestures of excitement, and a seemingly unified sense of anxiety and bewilderment. Few bothered to acknowledge my entrance into the room. “What are you guys doing?”

  Jennifer turned her head just long enough to make eye contact before quickly turning back to the TV. She spoke with an odd hint of drama. “Come here and look at this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Look.”

  Moving beside her I got my first look at the images on the screen. It was the same news channel we always had on, the familiar stock ticker scrolling across the bottom, making and breaking fortunes. The usual morning anchorman was there with his bad toupee, several video clips appearing on the screen next to his head. The images appeared to be more of a movie promotion than a news event.

  The
y were showing several different cities in Europe engulfed in some sort of chaos or rioting, with people running wild in the streets. I saw people that appeared to be in costumes, dressed like angels with large white wings attached to their backs. I quickly noticed that except for the wings, they were completely naked. It had to be some sort of protest; a bunch of political activists dressed as angels pushing some silly agenda. I’d seen protesters dressed as vaginas before, so this didn't seem so surprising.

  “What the hell is that?”

  Jennifer spoke without her eyes leaving the screen, “Watch.”

  A moment later I saw one of the angels grab a woman on the sidewalk and forcibly hug her. His wings came forward, wrapping around them both like a cocoon. The woman struggled at first, and then suddenly relaxed as if she had gone to sleep in his arms. The angel seemed to speak a few words, but there was no sound from the camera.

  From inside the wings, the woman's body began to glow slightly as if illuminated from within. A few seconds later her body disintegrated into dust that fell to the sidewalk; a strange wisp of glowing white smoke rising skyward from where her body had been. The angel unfurled his wings and began walking toward a crowd of panicked onlookers. The woman was gone; the only trace of her body a pile of ash now steadily being blown away by the wind and trampled on by other angels.

  “Okay, what is this?” I blurted, my words tinged with cynicism. “Some prank, right? Like one of those flash mob things? That guy’s freaking naked.”

  Somebody I recognized from around the office, but didn't really know, offered the only response. “It’s the news, man. People are getting attacked. It has to be some weird terrorist thing.”

  A faint but distinct thud and some commotion from down the hall momentarily grabbed my attention. But it was the same sound I’d heard many times before, a bird hitting a window. I paid it little mind as I became more transfixed on the television. As the news anchor babbled about a ‘biblical event’, the camera changed to cell phone footage of a skyline that looked to be Japan, and another from Russia. Both were shaky images of stormy skies, from which more of the angels were coming down from out of the clouds. It was as if they were parachuting, but there were no parachutes. In one video there were hundreds of them, dropping from the sky to walk the streets, grabbing people. One short cell phone clip showed dozens of ash piles scattered around in the road. Another showed hundreds of wispy puffs of smoke rising up into the clouds all over the city.

  Anyone grabbed by the angels turned to dust and disappeared. Some gave off a strange golden glow just before a wisp of smoke rose skyward. Others glowed red like fire. In one clip, a reporter approached one of the angels and tried to interview him. She was grabbed herself, and her cameraman ran away; the footage quickly shifting to a shaky view of his sneakers running down the sidewalk.

  “What channel is this really? Is this like a Chris Angel thing?” Before anyone answered, the sharp sound of glass breaking filled the hallway.

  A window? We’re on the 52nd floor.

  Then another window, people screaming, and a strong breeze rushed through the hall carrying the smell of the Hudson River. I had a sudden panicked vision of another terrorist attack on the city. I could see in the other faces the same realization, and after exchanging a few confused glances the break room quickly began to empty.

  The first office I came to was mine. Jim Brooksher was standing near the window now, staring out at the skyline in the distance. I stood in the doorway for a moment looking over his shoulder.

  The weather had changed, and the clear sky that had been there earlier was now heavily clouded and stormy. Several openings in the clouds let through intense golden shafts of sunlight, forming powerful beams that stretched all the way to the ground like spotlights. The fingers of God, I had heard them called; those pretty streams of light that look so beautiful in photographs.

  These brilliant beams of lights were now dotted with moving spots; strange little objects descending through the clouds, as if riding the beams. There were thousands of them, and halfway between the clouds and the ground they began to spread out over the city, flying like a huge swarm of bees.

  “What is that?”

  Jim turned for a second to see me standing in the doorway, and then quickly looked back to the window. “I don’t know. Birds I guess.”

  Suddenly several large and unbelievable figures passed by the window, then a few more, then dozens. “Holy shit!” Jim exclaimed, backing slightly away from the glass. “What the fuck!? Those are people!”

  I took a few steps into the room, drawn by an irresistible curiosity to get a better view. The same costumed people I had seen on the news were now flying through Manhattan, riding the wind on huge unnatural wings. In the distance were thousands more, following the golden fingers of God like highways to the Earth. It was the most surreal thing I had ever seen in my life.

  I heard more glass breaking, and more screams coming from elsewhere in the office. Stepping out into the hallway, I took a few steps towards the large central room that was mostly open space filled with cubicles. Everyone was on their feet, peering over their cubicle walls to see what was happening. Many were running towards the windowed perimeter offices to see the cause of all the commotion.

  Jim Brooksher yelled. Not a scream really, but that loud exclamation men make when they are suddenly startled. Turning back into my office, I saw her; a woman, an angel, a terrorist. I had no idea what the hell she was, but she was pressed up against the outside of the window. She was completely naked, all of the usual female parts in place. She was stunningly beautiful. Slim but full breasted, with a face more perfect than any magazine cover model could hope for. She had huge white wings that came out of her back, and with large rhythmic strokes they kept her hovering outside the window, looking directly at Jim through the glass. He stood frozen, momentarily paralyzed by the unbelievable sight before him.

  The hair stood up on my neck when she suddenly glanced at me. Her eyes were strangely golden. No colored pupil surrounded by white; just solid golden orbs. When she looked at me, I could feel it inside, as if she wasn’t just seeing me, but reading me, knowing me, seeing into me.

  “Jim, get away from the window.”

  He said nothing as the figure hovering outside turned her gaze back to him again.

  “Jim, move away from the damn window."

  As Jim turned to look at me, the angel gave a strong flap of her wings, pressed hard against the glass, and the window shattered inward. A great rush of air and shards of glass came crashing in. Jim stumbled backwards against my desk as papers blew all around the room. The angel stood before him, just an arm’s length away. He was frozen with fear. Before I could call out to him, the angel grabbed him and pulled him in, embracing him in a hug that almost appeared affectionate. She pulled his head into her bosom as her large wings wrapped around them both, and they stood there for several moments.

  Jim squirmed at first; a brief attempt to break away, like a child resisting his mother’s call to take a nap. Then he suddenly relaxed, as if her touch calmed and soothed him. I heard more screams coming from the rest of the office, but I couldn’t turn away from the surreal event playing out before me. I watched as the angel began to speak. Just a couple words; her lips moved and I heard a voice that was almost musical and poetic.

  “Lust.”

  “Greed.”

  Just two common words that now carried chilling meaning. The angel closed her eyes, and I saw Jim’s body begin to glow. It was a fiery sort of red color, like the coals in a barbeque grill. The smell of burning flesh filled the room, and a second later he turned to ash like an instantaneous cremation. I saw no wispy glowing smoke rise from him like I had seen on the TV. He was just gone, a pile of ash on the floor, bits of him blowing out the 52nd story window.

  The angel turned to me, her eyes met mine, and she began to walk toward me, her great wings retracting behind her as she moved further into the room. I was mesmerized, somehow feeling h
er eyes searching inside me. I heard the sound of the glass crunching under her bare feet as she moved around the desk. Despite the sharp edges of the broken shards, there were no cuts, no blood. She seemed to not even notice.

  A gust of wind pushed into the room, blowing some of Jim's ashes into my face. I heard a woman scream outside the office, and it sounded like Jennifer. It was enough to clear my head, and I turned and ran from the room.

  The rest of the office was now in chaos. A strong breeze, breeching in through broken windows, filled the air with flying papers and ashes that now seemed to be everywhere. People were running this way and that, some not knowing what they were running from, most not knowing where they were running to. A line was forming at the stairwell exit door, and a mob waited near the elevators, several people frantically pounding on the call buttons.

  In the office next to mine, I saw a pile of ash upon the floor. The window was shattered, and through it I could see the building across the street. It was not quite as high as ours, allowing me to see its roof from our floor, and people were pouring out onto the rooftop from a stairwell door. Looking down I could see broken windows on several floors, with angels flying in and out of the building like bees working a hive.